


Speculo

by skai_heda



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dystopia, F/M, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Minor John Murphy/Raven Reyes, New Planets, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Season/Series 06 Speculation, Tags May Change, Unrequited Love, Violence, like hella minor for a while, no you dont understand its literally an alternate universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 07:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 118,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skai_heda/pseuds/skai_heda
Summary: He refuses to think of this Clarke and his Clarke as the same person; he knows that something happened when he fell into the chromium pool, but he's not sure what it is.It's strange, to see a Clarke who's apparently had a life with things that had added up to something like happiness, strange that he can talk to her and be in the same room as her without one of them getting angry at each other. It seems to tear apart the image of Clarke he's had for every year that he's known her, the strong, quiet, serious, and then eternally sorrowful person he wanted to fix, confronted by someone who has never known Bellamy Blake before now.DISCONTINUED!!!!Or, Bellamy finds himself trapped in an alternate reality that really might just be the prelude to the real nature of their new home.





	1. Glass

**Author's Note:**

> season five murdered me rant to me in the comments

Bellamy doesn't mean to make her angry; he really doesn't.

But of course, stupid Bellamy Blake has to make some offhand comment about a benefit of Madi taking the Flame, and then the short, blonde woman beside him gives him such a venomous glare that Bellamy will swear to anyone and everyone from here on out that his life flashes before his eyes at that moment.

Angry Clarke, he can handle.

But when he catches a glimpse of her leaning heavily against a tree, tears streaming down her face and body shaking violently with sobs she refuses to release, Bellamy feels worse than ever.

 _She left you to die,_ an unpleasant voice murmurs in his head.

But then he thinks about endless hours spent standing near a window and watching a planet burn, and he reminds himself that he left her to die, too.

If this was before Praimfaya, Bellamy would've teased and comforted her into feeling loved and not so alone.

But they are different.

Personally, Bellamy thinks that the difference and the time and the space is a bit exaggerated between them.

But maybe he's too afraid to acknowledge that he may never get his best friend back.

"Bellamy," Echo says, nudging his arm as he sits by the fire in the middle of their little camp. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

Echo gives him a strange look, and Bellamy immediately regrets his response; he always tells her what he's thinking about.

"That's a lie," Echo says, unsurprisingly, but she doesn't push. Instead, she pulls him close, and cradles his head to her chest with a hand, fingers gently running through his scalp. He reaches out and grabs her knee, the way he'd hold onto a pillow at night.

Clarke stares almost longingly into the fire, as if she's looking for answers she knows she'll never find. Shaw watches her with a reverent sort of curiosity, and Miller sits with Jackson, having some sort of distraught, lovestruck conversation.

Bellamy doesn't know it yet, but he'll swear,  _he'll_ _swear,_ if he knew what was going to happen next, everything would've been different.

* * *

 

Clarke's the first one awake when Bellamy emerges from his and Echo's tent the next morning, and she seems to be entirely in her own world.

It's an unfamiliar sight even including the time before Praimfaya; Clarke always seemed to be completely prepared for every outcome, always wearing the mask that would be the only side of her the world would see.

There was one time, however, before now, when he caught her off guard and in her own thoughts, a pen in her hand and a list on the table in front of her.

Right now, she just watches the two suns rising with something that looks like peace, but Bellamy can still understand her body language. She stares straight ahead, her shoulders relaxed but resigned, and Bellamy can tell she's thinking about things she could've done differently.

It amazes him sometimes, how much he hated her at first, and how that turned into him being able to understand her so well.

And yet, he doesn't understand her at all.

He walks over to her, and for a brief moment, he considers telling her about the radio calls Madi talked to him about.

_~~Do you have any idea how much she cares about you?~~ _

"Hey," he says, and he almost slaps himself.

"Do you need something, Bellamy?" Clarke asks, and it's so different from the way she relaxed into his body as they saw their new planet for the first time.

~~_I need you._ ~~

Bellamy just shrugs. "Just wanted to know our plan for today."

"I would think you have all gotten tired of me making the decisions. I'm not even good at them anymore," Clarke muses, her face glowing in the light of dawn.

Bellamy's eyes flicker over to her, and he just watches her, her short hair blowing in the light breeze, her blue eyes devoid of the light he'd come to know six years ago.

"Clarke-"

"Establishing perimeter, just some exploration," Clarke interrupts, gesturing vaguely with her hand towards the trees. "Let's hope whatever is here doesn't want to kill us."

Bellamy nods, at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry," Clarke murmurs, with the tone of someone commenting on the weather. "For leaving you in Polis. I wanted to protect  _my_ family."

The statement hits him like a knife to the gut.

My family.

But he just as well told her that, too.

And he hates himself for it.

She hadn't believed him to be alive in six years, and then he goes and tells her she's not family anymore.

"It's okay," Bellamy says, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry for putting-"

"Miller!" Clarke says abruptly, turning away to face everyone else slowly coming out of their tents. Bellamy closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, even though he knows he's already out of air.

* * *

It doesn't take long for them to find something strange; not long at all.

It's a long, metal building, located square in the middle of a clearing in the woods, so reminiscent of the woods back on Earth.

"There's no one in here," Miller declares, standing in the doorway, and Clarke pushes past them all, heading straight for it.

"Clarke, it could be dangerous-" Bellamy begins, but Clarke turns her head back to him, her gaze meeting his, and Bellamy shuts up immediately.

"You guys still know how to do that?" Miller asks quietly, walking over to him.

"Do what?" Bellamy asks, his eyes never leaving Clarke as she disappears into the building.

"The thing with your eyes," Miller says, and follows Clarke without a word.

Bellamy goes in as well, and the bright lights almost blind him, and Echo even raises a hand to her eyes when they enter.

"Guys," Clarke calls from around a corridor. "Come see this."

Bellamy arrives after Miller, and they stand around a hole in the floor, and he leans forward to look in it.

"What the hell is that?" Shaw asks, and Bellamy wonders the same thing as they stare into what seems to be a puddle of liquid chromium.

"Don't know," Clarke says. "Some sort of liquid substance, obviously."

Bellamy crouches down by the hole, reaching his hand out.

"Bellamy, what the fuck? That could be toxic-!" Clarke says immediately, crouching down, glaring at him.

It's a stupid instinct, one that would've been normal back when he first landed on Earth, but certainly not now.

He reaches out and touches it.

Nothing happens, and he withdraws his hand. There's not even a stain on his fingers; they're not even wet.

"Not toxic," Bellamy mutters.

"Bellamy, you stupid ass," Clarke snaps. Bellamy reaches into the hole again, plunging his whole arm in almost to his shoulder, but he seems to reach no end.

And instead of the thickness associated with water, his hand seems to be waving around in the air.

"It's quite literally a hole," Bellamy says. "A tunnel or something."

Clarke looks at him as if he's just grown extra ears.

"What are you thinking?" she hisses, and Echo snaps Bellamy's name as he leans towards the silvery surface.

"Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy, be careful," Clarke says, sounding panicked.

"Clarke, I'll be fine-"

Bellamy's hand slips, and he tumbles through the silvery surface.

* * *

His head burns, and his eyes flutter open.

The first thing he notices is fire.

Half-burnt seats, melted metal.

Plane crash.

Was the last two days just some sort of fever dream?

Bellamy maneuvres his way out of his seatbelt, his body aching.

He doesn't see anyone, and his mind comes up with about a million possibilities about what's happened to them, but he tries to ignore it all and crawl out of a hole in the transport ship.

He crumples once he reaches the outside, the smell of grass filling his nostrils.

He lies there for a long time, taking deep, shaky breaths.

And suddenly, something shoves his shoulder, turning him over on his back.

It takes some time for his eyes to focus on the person standing above him, and even when he sees, he doesn't quite believe it.

But he'd recognize the blonde hair and electric blue eyes anywhere.

_Clarke._

Her hair is longer, her eyes livelier. She wears a black, armor-like jacket, and tight black pants, obviously equipped for combat of some sort.

"Cla-" he begins, but Clarke holds a hand to his mouth. 

"Sucks that you're alive," Clarke says, unzipping her jacket and tearing a strip off the simple grey henley she wears underneath. She takes his arm and wraps the cloth tightly around his arm, and Bellamy swallows when he sees blood soaking through it. She zips up her jacket again, and helps him up.

"Clarke," he says, leaning heavily against her. "What's happening?"

Clarke freezes. "What did you just call me?" she asks.

"Uh, Clarke?" Bellamy says, his eyebrows knitting together.

Clarke gives him a venomous look. "How do you know that?"

"Information- Clarke, you're... you're my best friend, why wouldn't I know your name?"

"That's not my name," Clarke says simply, her face morphing back to something impassive.

"It's... not...?"

"I'd keep my mouth shut, Sky Boy," the Clarke who isn't Clarke says, dragging him through the woods. "You might've just caused the end of the world."

 

 


	2. Don't Look Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy struggles to establish the situation.

He had passed out while Clarke was dragging him through the woods; now he wakes in a warm, soft bed.

The first thing he realizes is that his beard is gone, but then he remembers it had been gone since he came to in the plane wreckage.

And then he understands that he's wearing a clean, new shirt, and that the strip of Clarke's own shirt is still tied around his arm. He lifts the hem of his own shirt and sees bandages wrapping around his torso, the area around his left side having a faint bloodstain.

"Oh, good, you're awake," a slightly sultry voice mutters from a few feet away. "You can open your eyes now."

Bellamy opens his eyes, and is immediately greeted by electric blue ones.

Clarke.

But not Clarke.

"Where am I?" Bellamy asks, taking the glass of water Clarke gently puts in his hands.

"Doesn't matter."

"What happened?"

"I thought you'd know," Clarke says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and taking the now empty glass from Bellamy's hands. "Do you remember anything before the crash?"

There's a clinical sort of curiosity in her eyes, none of the warmth that he knows, and it has his heart literally aching for his Clarke.

No.

Not his.

"I don't remember," he lies, rubbing his temples. "I have no idea."

Clarke stares hard into his eyes for a second, her gaze so intense that Bellamy feels his cheeks heating. If he's blushing, she will fortunately not know the reason, but draw the conclusion that he's lying.

"Alright," Clarke says after a long moment. "Can you stand?"

Bellamy swings his legs over the edge of the bed, his legs clad in annoyingly comfortable sweatpants, and he can feel a bandage wrapped around his shin. He wobbles a little bit, pain shooting up his legs as he puts weight on them, and Clarke grabs his shoulders. "Come on, Sky Boy," she coaxes. "I think you can do it."

She releases him after he takes a few steps, and he  _can_ walk, but he misses the feeling of Clarke's hands on his shoulders.

A part of his brain, the smarter one, perhaps, drags up a memory of Echo's face, and Bellamy sighs inwardly.

"Sky Boy," he muses, putting a hand on the nightstand. "Why do you call me that?"

"Because you literally fell out of the sky," Clarke says simply.

"But you know me," Bellamy blurts.

Clarke's eyebrows knit together. "I don't know who you are."

Bellamy closes his eyes, his heart sinking into his stomach.

"We can start with your name," Clarke says, and though Bellamy knows she doesn't intend to comfort him, he feels more at ease.

"Bellamy," he murmurs. "Bellamy Blake."

"Bellamy," she repeats, tasting the word on her tongue, and Bellamy has a primal urge to kiss her senseless, something he hasn't felt since before Praimfaya-

_Echo Echo Echo Echo Echo_

He sits back down and clears his throat. "What about you?" he asks her.

"What do you mean?" Clarke asks, but Bellamy has a feeling she knows exactly what he means.

"Your name. What do they call you?"

Clarke smiles a little, a knowing little curve of her lips that makes Bellamy's insides flutter, a smile he's never seen before. "They just call me Griffin."

"I know that's not your name," Bellamy says, matching her smile with his classic Blake smirk. To his surprise, she doesn't seem to be affected by it. "No harm in sharing a secret, right?"

Clarke puts a hand under his chin and tilts his head up. "You don't have to call me anything if you don't like what you know," she says, the ends of her hair tickling his face as she leans forward. And then the moment ends, and Clarke steps back.

"Your name is Clarke," Bellamy says suddenly, not wanting her to leave.

Clarke just smiles. "If you say so."

* * *

He finds himself downstairs, completely in a trance as he watches Clarke gently sway to the beat of a song playing throughout the lower level of the house (which Bellamy liked immediately upon hearing it faintly from a hallway outside the room he'd been in) as she heats something up in a microwave.

He's just never seen her so...

Happy.

_"Show me that I'll never fly alone_

_I fucked up so many times, but I still have you_

_Show me how you do it like that..."_

After a long moment, Bellamy clears his throat. Clarke doesn't look remotely startled as she turns around with a bowl in her hand. "Have some lunch," she says briskly, beckoning for him to come over to the pristine glass table near the kitchen.

As it turns out, this Clarke is a really fucking good cook.

_"You been runnin' through my section all day_

_You been runnin' through my mind all day_

_All day, all day, all day, all day, yeah..."_

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as he quietly finishes off a bowl of buttery, warm pasta. As he eats, Clarke grabs the black jacket she'd been wearing when she found him, and zips it up almost to her throat after pulling it on.

"Are you going somewhere?" Bellamy asks.

"Not yet," Clarke mutters, coming back to him as she pulls her hair out of the collar of her jacket.

"Who are you and what do you do?" Bellamy asks, shooting up to his feet. He immediately regrets the sudden movement; pain pulses through his whole body.

"That is information you can't know," Clarke says, turning away. "Let's get you back up to bed; you're still pretty weak."

"Clarke-"

 _"Stop-"_ Clarke suddenly snaps. "Stop calling me that."

Bellamy holds back a sudden burst of tears.

"Come on," she murmurs, walking over to him and slinging his arm over her shoulder.

"Give me something to call you," Bellamy murmurs, fatigue taking over his bones as Clarke helps him up the stairs.

She's silent for a long time, tucking him into bed as if she were his mother.

"Fiona," she says suddenly. "They call me Fiona Griffin."

"Fiona isn't your name," Bellamy says, rolling onto his side.

"No," Clarke agrees. "But it's something."

Bellamy sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. He watches Clarke's eyes watch every movement he makes and he wishes he could tell whether she was blushing or not; her cheeks seem to be permanently rosy.

He thinks of his Clarke, the sorrow that seems to follow her, her blue eyes dark with anger.

And somehow, he wants the Clarke back home more than he wants this Clarke.

"Blake," Clarke says suddenly, and Bellamy looks up to her. "No more questions."

"What if I leave-?" Bellamy asks gesturing towards the door.

"You won't be able to," Clarke says, stepping away from the bed, zipping up her jacket. "You try to walk out the door, you'll get hurt. Literally. Take my word for it."

Bellamy lowers his head back onto the bed, his head spinning, his memories fighting for dominance, an understanding of this world and knowledge of his own.

"Sleep," Clarke says, slipping out the door, and Bellamy does.

* * *

The next few days are the same.

Clarke leaves every day, and Bellamy just sleeps, fatigue and the pain of his injuries chasing him. She comes back, makes him food, tends to his injuries, and refuses to tell him anything.

Until one day, when Bellamy can walk more, he creeps downstairs and towards the study.

He expects no one to be there, but peering through the glass doors, he sees two people standing there, talking in hushed voices. Bellamy presses himself against the wall.

"Clarke, are you crazy?" a man with graying hair asks Clarke, who sits in the desk chair with her boots on the table.

So Clarke  _is_ her name.

"So what, I'd leave him alive in the wreckage?  _Kill him?"_

"Damn it, Clarke, no," the man says, putting his hands over his eyes. "Keeping him here jeopardizes the entire mission-"

"Which is  _gathering intel!"_ Clarke snaps, taking her feet off the table. 

"Everything is a risk, especially on intel missions. And you're involved in a matter of national security! Clarke, you're more responsible than this-"

"I won't leave him bleeding and bruised on the street, and I know you wouldn't either, Russell."

The man, Russell, takes his hands away from his eyes and sighs. "Clarke, Jake and Abby were part of us. It was only right that I took you in after Abby disappeared the week after Jake died. Taking care of Bellamy Blake is not the same."

"He doesn't remember anything before the crash," Clarke counters. "If I let him go, people will notice, they'll start asking questions, and those questions may lead to us."

"Have you ever considered that he might be lying?" Russell asks, crossing his arms.

"Obviously, Russell," Clarke snaps. "I'm not that stupid. Do you have the information I asked for?"

Russell's shoulders rise and fall with a silent sigh. "It wasn't a commercial plane. It was one of ours."

Clarke gets up. "Eligius militia?"

"Has to date back at least a century or two. The ship Colonel Charmaine Diyoza took control of."

Bellamy's head almost explodes, his mind scrambling for an explanation. Was their initial landing just a fever dream? Is this real? Did the Eligius transport ship really crash?

The one anomaly is Clarke.

Unless she's been brainwashed, had false memories injected into her head-

_Focus, Bellamy. Focus._

"Listen, when he's better, I let him go. I'll monitor him after that," Clarke voice says, bringing Bellamy out of his panicked state. "Now, I'm gonna go change his bandages. You should go."

Bellamy stifles a sharp inhale and tries to scramble back into the bed as quietly as he can without hurting himself. When he hears Clarke's footsteps on the stairs, he considers faking sleep, but knows he can't. Clarke doesn't seem fazed by him sitting up when she arrives, just comes to sit on the bed beside him. 

"I've gotta change this one," she says with an unreadable expression as she taps his gut. "Take your shirt off."

Bellamy hesitates for a second, then pulls the shirt off, with a few difficulties due to the stiffness in his body. Now, he can really tell that Clarke's blushing, because her cheeks redden completely as her eyes wander all over him. Bellamy realizes however, that her gaze is more concerned than embarrassed; her eyes linger longer on the various cuts and bruises on his body.

She reaches out and touches a particularly messy cut just above his heart, and Bellamy remembers her doing the same in a different time, trying to tell him to use his head, trying to warn him that he would lose her forever.

"This'll scar," she says gently, then scoots closer, holding up medical gauze. She puts a hand on his shoulder. "This is going to hurt a lot," she warns.

"What if I yell?" Bellamy asks.

Clarke clamps her right hand over his mouth, her thumb brushing his lower lip in calming, meticulous strokes. Then, with her free hand, she begins to unravel his bandage, occasionally prodding and poking his side. When she touches the gash in his gut, Bellamy immediately clamps his lips onto Clarke's thumb, taking deep, painful breathes in an effort not to scream himself hoarse. 

"It's fine," she says, moving the rest of her hand to cup his face. "You're doing great."

She has some trouble doing it with one hand, but she wraps a layer of gauze tightly around his torso, so tightly that he almost blacks out.

"Too tight?" she asks, looking at the small splotch of blood now staining the bandage.

Her thumb still between his lips, Bellamy nods.

"Sorry," she says. "Hold on..."

She unwraps him, then gasps a little. "Stitch came undone," she declares.

"Why'd you wrap up a stitch?" Bellamy asks around her finger.

"Looked pretty bad, I didn't think it could be a long term solution. You're healing, but I gotta stitch you up again." She takes her thumb out of his mouth, and Bellamy sighs.

"Give me a minute," she says, hurrying over to the bathroom. She arrives with a med kit, then sighs again. Returning to his side, she says, "Sorry. I'm out of sedatives. You'll feel the whole thing."

"Go ahead," Bellamy says, trying not to hyperventilate. He's always hated needles. Clarke pours warm water over his side, and Bellamy tries to stay conscious.

"Need a pillow to bite down on?" Clarke asks, opening the box. She turns away to sterilize the needle with some cloth, then grabs a soapy towel.

"Your hand will be fine," Bellamy blurts, then immediately regrets it. He tries to play it off with a smirk, watching Clarke try to scrub the wound with soap as gently as possible.

Clarke rolls her eyes, and puts her hand over Bellamy's mouth again. She doesn't put her thumb on his lips again, and Bellamy feels simultaneously relieved and disappointed. She brings out the needle, and Bellamy shuts his eyes. "You don't have a lot of supplies on you, don't you?" he asks, trying to calm his nerves.

"Staying here was kind of a last minute plan," Clarke says. "Are you sure you don't need a pillow?"

Bellamy wants to say yes, but everything hurts and his logic is slowly draining.

"Alright," Clarke murmurs, and her thumb slides between his lips just as the needle pierces his skin. He tries to keep his back from arching up, tries to keep himself from crying out. After a few moments of agony, he finally feels Clarke tying a knot, and lets his head fall back onto the pillow.

"Almost bit my thumb off," she mutters, brushing away a damp curl pressed to his forehead by sweat. "Get some sleep."

"You owe me an explanation," he murmurs, just as sleep pulls him under.

* * *

 

The next week and a half pass in a blur.

Clarke's gone half the time, but when she is, she spends hours taking care of him and helping him regain his strength.

"Do you do this to everyone you rescue?" he asks her one night as she helps him pace around the house.

"I don't rescue many people," she says. "But..." 

She trails off, looking around the kitchen. "There's something about  _you._ This strange, deeply ingrained urge to take care of you. I feel a connection to you and it's so strong it's like... it's like a survival instinct." Then Clarke laughs. "Which sounds stupid. I'm honestly only telling you this because you're probably half delirious and you won't remember it."

Bellamy doesn't answer.

"Is Clarke your real name?" he asks after a few minutes of silence.

Clarke says nothing for a long time.

"Why won't you just tell me?" Bellamy asks as they arrive at his room.

"A small mistake can have unbearable consequences," Clarke murmurs. "And telling the truth can be one of those small mistakes."

Bellamy sits down on the bed.

"I don't know how you know," Clarke says, her face devoid of emotion. "But you're right. I am Clarke."

Bellamy nods, unsure of what to say.

"Sleep," Clarke says. "I'll be back in the morning."

* * *

It's a very long time before Bellamy actually sleeps, because he just  _thinks._

And he longs to be home, actually home, with Spacekru and everyone else.

And then he remembers Clarke, his detachment from her and the anger that keeps them apart.

He refuses to think of this Clarke and his Clarke as the same person; he knows that something happened when he fell into the chromium pool, but he's not sure what it is.

It's strange, to see a Clarke who's apparently had a life with things that had added up to something like happiness, strange that he can talk to her and be in the same room as her without one of them getting angry at each other. It seems to tear apart the image of Clarke he's had for every year that he's known her, the strong, quiet, serious, and then eternally sorrowful person he wanted to fix, confronted by someone who had never known Bellamy Blake before now.

The headaches from thinking about it abate for long enough for him to fall asleep, but even in his dreams an image of Clarke flickers like a light being turned on and off, a woman with short hair and a face permanently hardened by war and hidden sorrow, and then a woman with a wide, mischievous smirk and electric eyes that were always hiding a million secrets that were being dangled above Bellamy's head as if the whole thing, to her, was just a game.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is The Ways by Khalid


	3. There's Stormy Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy attempts to scratch the surface of the predicament he's landed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im changing bellamy's age again don't stop me now

It's evening and Clarke isn't home; this is one of the few days where she doesn't come back home for a long time. Bellamy gingerly gets out of bed, feeling better every day but still drained from his injuries. This isn't the first time he has gotten up while Clarke has been gone; he even attempted to leave the house one day, but was greeted by a slightly painful electric shock as he collides with a wall of inflexible air occupying every door leading out the house.

Now, however, he knows what to do.

He creeps over to the study again; he's immensely glad that no one occupies it now. He pushes the glass doors open, and stands in the organized study, searching for something that could give him answers.

A folder lies on one side of the desk, and Bellamy immediately picks it up.

**C L A R K E  G R I F F I N**

**Alias: Fiona Griffin**

**Griffin Case File**

Bellamy notices another folder on the desk and picks it up as well.

**Eligius Militia Mission Overview**

His hands shaking a little, he opens the Griffin Case File.

**Clarke Cordelia Griffin**

**Age: 20**

Bellamy knows that Clarke is only two years younger than him, so this would have to mean that he's twenty-two right now.

How is that even possible?

**Origin: Proxima Centauri System- Proxima Centauri B**

**Code: Wanheda**

**Mission Status: Active**

**Status: ~~~~Alive**

**Abigail Athene Johnson Griffin (mother)**

**Status: Traitor**

**Jake Elias Griffin (father)**

**Status: Dead**

There's more about her physical information and her years of active duty which Bellamy isn't particularly concerned about, so he puts her case file down and picks up the mission overview.

**Clarke Griffin**

**Eligius Intel Mission**

**Status: Second Dawn Enterprises Interplanetary Communications Ambassador**

**_Fiona Griffin_   
**

**_Age: 22_ **

**_Origin: Proxima Centauri System- Proxima Centauri B_ **

**Investigate Interplanetary relations between Second Dawn Enterprises and Proxima Centauri C**

**Instigate no acts of war**

**National Danger Status: Level Four**

**Planetary Danger Status: Level Three**

**Supervising Officer: Russell Hall**

**Mission Length: ~~TBD~~ 5 MONTHS**

And then, In Clarke's neat handwriting-

_Eligius Militia Transport Ship Crash_

**_BELLAMY BLAKE_ **

Bellamy sighs, all the pieces floating together in his head. 

Clarke's acting as a double agent for her country, which explains her consistent absences. He has information, but it's not enough for him to understand his own situation any better; he has no idea how much longer Clarke has left in this mission. He supposes the investigation of interplanetary relations may have something to do with resources, rebellion, or simply war; but he's honestly more hung up on the fact that there are more habitable planets; Monty hadn't mentioned it in his message. 

Bellamy's about to put the files down and leave when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

"Put them down," he hears Clarke say from behind him, her voice steady.

Fighting the simultaneous urges to either raise his hands or knock the gun out of her hands, he puts the files back down on the desk and turns slowly to face her.

"Glad to see you can walk around without my help," Clarke says impassively, her piercing blue eyes evaluating his own. Her hair is pulled into an intricate coronet braid, a crown of her braided hair coiling around her head.

"Clarke," Bellamy begins. "I swear-"

"Save it," Clarke interrupts. "And just tell me who you really are."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Bellamy says, tentatively taking a step forward, trying not to remember a different Clarke pointing a different gun at him to stop him from opening a bunker door.

"Don't tell me what I will and won't believe," Clarke snaps. "Explain."

And he does.

"We landed here a few days ago," he begins, and as he starts to speak, he remembers the whole thing. "We were just out on afternoon trying to explore the woods nearest us, and we found a building."

Clarke stares hard at him for a second, and slowly lowers the gun, her finger still on the trigger. 

"It was small, seemed to be abandoned," Bellamy continues. "We found some weird sort of silvery puddle in the building. We thought it was toxic, and we were just testing it and I fell in..."

He expects Clarke to look skeptical or call him out on lying or laugh, but she actually looks horrified.

"Next thing I knew," Bellamy finishes. "I wake up in the plane wreckage."

"Shit," Clarke says, lowering the gun with a shaking hand, the most panicked he's ever seen this version of her. "Shit, shit,  _shit!"_

"What?" Bellamy asks, feeling a little agitated himself. 

"I knew it," Clarke declares, scrambling over to the desk and pulling out a small, dark box from the drawer in the desk. "For fuck's sake, Bellamy Blake, do you have any idea what you might've done?"

"Well, no, because you're being annoyingly vague!" Bellamy hisses, walking over to Clarke. She presses a button on the box, and a hologram of a three-dimensional map floats in front of their faces.

"Glass Sector," Clarke says, and the hologram flickers out and appears again showing what seems to be a zoomed-in portion of the map. It's mostly just forest, a few wayward roads and buildings at the edges of the map.

"Update terrain," Clarke orders the box, and the hologram goes dark for a full ten seconds before reappearing with clearly seems to be the Eligius transport ship in pieces.

"No," Clarke breathes. "No, no, no, you fucking idiot. What the hell were you thinking, falling into the Speculo?"

"The what now?" Bellamy asks, crossing his arms. "If you're talking about the puddle, it wasn't my fault-"

"It can't be real," Clarke says. "I've never, ever heard of it happening. It's supposed to be impossible, just a theory, just a  _theory-"_

 _"What is?"_ Bellamy asks.

Clarke bites her lip for a second, clearly caught between decisions.

"Nothing," she says, and god, Bellamy's  _infuriated._ "Don't worry about it."

"Now I'm definitely worried about it," he says. He steps in front of Clarke when she tries to walk away. "Come on, Clarke. What is it?"

"There's a ninety-nine point nine chance that I'm wrong," she declares, trying to sidestep him, but Bellamy keeps moving in the same direction as her. "Get out of my way."

"You still owe me an explanation-"

Clarke grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him so close that their noses actually touch. "I don't owe you anything," she says, her voice low and dangerously calm. "Now go back upstairs while I try to figure this out." She releases his shirt and steps away, walking out of the study with a deadly, catlike grace.

And Bellamy, his heart pounding from the encounter and his body humming from the contact with Clarke, actually smiles a little.

* * *

Clarke never answers his questions regarding the Speculo or whatever, nor the crash, nor her mission. 

He does find a particular joy in flirting with and teasing her, even if most of the responses are annoyed or indifferent now, and always accompanied with Clarke's cheeks reddening. It's a feeling he hasn't been familiar with since the dropship days, a reckless sort of self-assurance, the driving force behind his consistent teasing of Clarke when he had first met her.

_Brave Princess._

Goddamn, that girl had made him smile.

Lost in his thoughts one uneventful afternoon, he almost doesn't notice the gasps of pain and someone falling in the foyer of the house.

He races to the front of the house, still feeling a little sore, but he's felt worse in more combative conditions.

His heart almost stops when he sees Clarke, a side of her face completely covered in bruises, a bloodstain growing near her stomach. 

"Blake," she heaves. "Get your ass over here."

Bellamy runs over to her, and she grabs his outstretches arms, trying to pull herself up, but her face crumples in pain and she collapses against him. Bellamy fits his hands under her knees and picks her up, cradling her to his chest.

"That wasn't fucking necessary. Put me on the dining table," she orders, and Bellamy does.

"Go get the medkit from your room," Clarke says, pressing her hands to the bloodstain on her shirt. Bellamy gets it as fast as he can, and he returns to see Clarke staring at the ceiling, exhaling rapidly.

"What the hell happened?" he asks, opening the box. 

"I almost got compromised, that's what," she says grimly. "Do you know how to stitch a-"

"Yeah, I know," Bellamy answers, having gotten some rudimentary training from Clarke a long time ago. "Hold still," he commands, pulling the hem of her shirt up, repeating the steps she took before she stitched  _his_ wound. 

"Need a pillow to bite down on?" he asks, trying to give her a comforting smile.

"No."

"My hand?"

_"Bellamy, I swear to god-"_

Bellamy slides the needle into her skin, and Clarke gasps. "Fucking shit, Bellamy, what the hell?"

"Anticipation would only increase the pain," Bellamy says, slowly sealing Clarke's wound. He feels a childish sense of pride to see that his stitches are a lot neater than Clarke's own. When he's done, Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. 

"Thanks," she mutters. "Can you help me up?"

Bellamy does, and Clarke takes a few unsteady steps towards the stairs.

"You're going to go up the stairs?"

It's not that he himself cannot do it, but he worries about Clarke; he always does.

"I'll be fine," Clarke says, still making her way towards the stairs. Bellamy walks over to her, grabbing her arm and putting it around his shoulders as she slowly ascends, her eyes fluttering closed on more than one occasion. Soon, she's the one who starts leading him towards her room, and Clarke all but collapses onto her bed when they reach it.

"Explain," Bellamy says.

"Well, I was able to take care of a big issue. Some escaped criminal wanted to kill me because he thought I was Second Dawn, and I was able to knock him out. The authorities should have taken him by now. Little shit damn near spilled my guts on the ground, though, and if I was taken into medical, the whole mission would've gone to hell."

"What do you mean? It's just medical?" Bellamy asks.

"Here, in Second Dawn country, they do a total genetic scan of you to establish your identity. My sweet mother had me entered into their system a few years back, so you can imagine why I can't go."

Bellamy nods in thought. "And you can't remove yourself from the system?"

"Not as far as we're concerned," Clarke murmurs, sitting up again. 

They sit in silence. 

"What's a Speculo?" he asks after a while.

Clarke stares at the wall for a second, then says, "Get the shirt and shorts from the top of the dresser."

He does, gazing at her the whole time, trying to understand what she's thinking.

It's just so  _hard_ with her.

Even after being separated from his Clarke for six years, he'd been able to understand some of the things she'd done, but now, this Other Clarke remains completely shrouded in mystery, and Bellamy would be lying if he says that the prospect of not knowing her scares her.

She's the literal mirror image of the woman he knows, and yet so unpredictable, her intentions completely masked.

"Close your eyes," she orders, and Bellamy hears a few scuffling noises with his eyes tightly shut, and Clarke taps him on the shoulder, signaling him to open his eyes.

"A Speculo," she says, straightening the shirt she'd just put on, "is something beyond anything I can explain to you. Just the mere existence of it would have to mean one of us isn't real."

Bellamy raises an eyebrow.

"A Speculo is supposed to be an anomaly in the fabric of the universe itself, according to the numerous theories about it. Bellamy, you gotta understand-I never believed it could ever exist."

"Go on," he pushes.

"You may have entered a universe that isn't your own," Clarke says, biting her lip and looking at him like he's a ticking time bomb.

Bellamy opens his mouth a few times and closes them, unsure of what to say.

"You do remember everything before the crash. You remember a life that is completely different and implausible in the setting you're in now. You being here is like trying to jam a square peg into a circular hole. And there's no way of knowing which universe is real."

"You're kind of contradicting your own statements here," Bellamy says. "If I wasn't real, if my world wasn't real, where would I have come from? The Speculo theory means that a multiverse has to exist, or some form of it."

"Anomaly," Clarke repeats. "A copy, Blake. It seems like a mirror image, but it isn't real. Ever read Alice Through The Looking Glass?"

"That explains nothing," Bellamy mutters.

"But it gives you an idea," Clarke counters. "There are two possibilities; either you've fallen into an alternate reality that's been woven together from pieces of your universe, or you're just another walking anomaly created by the supposed Speculo in Glass Sector."

"That makes no sense," Bellamy says indignantly. 

"It doesn't to me either!" Clarke replies.

"I'm still not getting what it even  _is,"_ Bellamy implores.

"Fanatics call it a portal," Clarke says, leaning back on her pillows. "But there's no way to know anything for sure. There is a possibility that your entire life could be a series of false memories. But I don't know. No one understands a Speculo, and no one ever will."

* * *

It's not easy to think about.

He'd never, ever entertained the possibility that everything, everything from him holding his sister in his arms to him landing on Earth to him making it to a new planet, would never have happened at all.

The possibility that Clarke was never real, and this was the actual Clarke.

_No._

_It can't be._

"Hey," Clarke murmurs, settling down in the chair next to his at the kitchen countertop. "You okay?"

"What if I went back through the same Speculo?" Bellamy asks, turning his head to hers. Clarke looks surprised.

"I've never thought of that," she admits.

"I could go back home," Bellamy says. "And you can continue whatever it is that you're doing."

Clarke clutches her cup of coffee, deep in thought. Bellamy can tell it's a good deal for her; he can at least recognize a few of her facial expressions.

"Maybe," she concedes. "You do realize that none of this Speculo bullshit has been confirmed, right?"

"Maybe," he says, echoing her. "But there's a chance, isn't there?"

Clarke gives him a long, calculating look before she finally nods. "Alright," she mutters, taking a sip of her coffee. "We'll go tomorrow."

A nagging little voice at the back of Bellamy's head warns him that it won't be that easy, but he ignores it. 

After all, how hard could it be for something to finally turn out right for him?

 

 

 


	4. Another Roadblock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy faces complications with his plan to return home.

There are soldiers everywhere.

He nearly walks right into one before Clarke grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him back.

"Please tell me you aren't this tactless in your world," Clarke begs, shaking his shoulders a little.

"I'm not," Bellamy assures her, his cheeks warming. "I'm just... really fucking confused."

Clarke nods to herself, staring off into space.

"We need to get to the ship," Bellamy urges. "That's where we start."

"Sounds like a great plan," Clarke drawls. "But we can't go through. They're not Eligius. They're Second Dawn Militia. They won't even let me in, forget you."

Bellamy massages his temples. "Woods, woods, woods," he murmurs, trying to think of something.

"A distraction-" Clarke gasps. "Shit, one's coming for us."

"How'd you know?" Bellamy murmurs. "You didn't even turn your head-"

"Peripheral vision, dumbass!" Clarke snaps.

"Calm down," Bellamy murmurs, a reckless idea forming in his head. "Trust me."

He tilts his head down and kisses her in a way that almost crosses into the realm into improper behavior in public. To his immense relief, Clarke responds immediately, her hands sliding into his hair as she kisses him back with equal fervor.

The guard's footsteps come closer, then retreat, and when Bellamy can't hear them anymore, he pulls away.

"I'm going to cut your fingers off if you do that again," Clarke says, touching her swollen lips. 

"Saved our lives," Bellamy says, looking away. He just  _kissed_ Clarke, and yet, it didn't feel like her at all. It just felt like kissing some random person who wouldn't even matter to him in a matter of hours.

"There are better ways to save our lives," Clarke says, scanning the edge of the forest for more guards.

"Why are they guarding the crash site?" Bellamy asks, trying to dodge the situation. He doesn't want to get into argument with his Clarke unless he knows he'll win, but he's sure this Clarke will win every fight one way or another.

Clarke narrows her eyes at him. "An Eligius militia ship crashed in Second Dawn territory. Why do you think?"

Bellamy feels a sickening wave of nausea.

"Second Dawn," he murmurs, staring at the trees.  _"Second Dawn, Clarke."_

"What the hell are you talking about?" Clarke asks, crossing her arms, her hip jutting out. Bellamy shakes his head.

"Second Dawn used to exist in my world," he murmurs, closing his eyes for a second.

"Were they your version of Big Brother?" Clarke asks, smirking a little. Bellamy is silent for a long time, she mistakes it for confusion.  _"1984,"_ she clarifies. "By-"

"Orwell," Bellamy finishes. "George Orwell."

Clarke looks at him as if he's suddenly become too bright on the eyes.

"No, they weren't Big Brother," Bellamy mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as they walk away from the tree line. "They were just some modern-day cult."

"Nothing Orwellian about that," Clarke smirks, her eyes scanning for guards, all of whom happen to be watching them.

"They're onto us," Bellamy mutters, sitting down on a bench. "We need to get past them."

"So eager to leave," Clarke says, setting her hands on her hips and looking down at him. The setting sun shines behind her, outlining her in gold.

Bellamy swallows.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Clarke asks.

"Nothing-no reason. Let's go. We could always just start with asking them why they're guarding it."

Clarke nods and Bellamy stands, ready to go. Her eyes go skyward for a second, and she gasps. "Bellamy, there!" she yells, grabbing his wrist with one hand and pointing to the sky with another.

A sleek silver plane circles around the crash site, words written on the side that Bellamy can't clearly make out.

"See what it says?" Clarke asks, leaning in close, her shoulder nudging his.

Feeling unreasonably frustrated with himself, Bellamy shakes his head. "Too blurry."

Clarke's eyes dart sideways at him, then back up. "Second Dawn Air Force," she says, her hand still tightly gripping his wrist. "They're here to investigate."

* * *

"Eligius militia?" Clarke asks the guard, looking so surprised that Bellamy almost believes it. This Clarke is a terrifyingly good actress. "That's quite impossible. That violates the Pax Treaty, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you any more," the guard, Krakauer according to a badge above his breast pocket, says, looking genuinely apologetic. "Not unless you're a Second Dawn official."

Clarke withdraws a silvery key card out of her inside jacket pocket and holds it up.

"As Interplanetary Communications Ambassador," Bellamy begins. "We are part of this investigation as well. We heard that Proxima Centauri C still had access to old Eligius military aircraft. This could be their doing."

The lie rolls of his tongue as smooth as a gentle wave, but Bellamy panics inside. If he's wrong, they'll be exposed.

Clarke stands so deathly still next to him he almost fears that she's turned into a statue.

"Proxima Centauri C is being taken care of," Krakauer says after a moment, his features hardening a little.

"Then you won't mind if we take a look," Clarke says. "Just to confirm."

The guard opens his mouth to protest. "Ma'am, I told you, we had it under control-"

"The pawns are always the most unreliable pieces, don't you think?" Clarke interrupts, crossing her arms. "I'm Second Dawn, and so is he."

Krakauer flushes and steps aside. Clarke tilts her head towards the forest with her eyes glued to Bellamy's, and they walk.

"Quick thinking," Clarke says quietly once they're out of earshot. "You could've killed us right then and there."

"But I didn't," Bellamy says, trying not to snap. "They think we're a couple after the display by the trees," he says after a while. "Keep some consistency by trying not to bite my head off."

"Would you rather have me bite some other part of you?" Clarke asks, and Bellamy's face burns. He probably looks like a tomato right now.

"Sure," he says, his voice surprisingly steady. "Consistency, right?"

"Consistency," Clarke repeats with a smirk nothing short of evil, and Bellamy tries not to faint.

* * *

"Were there survivors?" Clarke asks, her tilted up towards the top of the wreckage. One of the other guards _(Gale)_ , currently standing outside the remains of the entrance, shakes her head.

"We found none," Gale says, her fiery red hair matching the color of the sun bleeding against the silhouettes of distant mountains. "It appeared to be deserted when it crashed."

"Makes no sense," Bellamy hears Clarke murmur as he turns his head up to the sky, searching for some distortion of air, something irregular that would allude to the situation at hand.

_Come on._

"Let's go inside," Clarke murmurs, shaking Bellamy's arm, and he follows, his heart beating faster with every step.

* * *

It is dark.

Clarke walks around the ship, searching for anything remotely like a Speculo and so does Bellamy, but something catches his eye, a glimmer against the darkness, something shining on the console.

Bellamy turns his head from side to side to check whether any guards are watching, then he walks over to the console. 

It's a simple envelope, with silver letters written on it.

**B E L L A M Y  B L A K E**

With a shaking hand, Bellamy withdraws a small piece of paper from the envelope.

There's only a small message.

_Level One: Acquired_

_Congratulations, Mr. Blake. If you're reading this, you're one step closer to returning home._

_Next Destination: Second Dawn Ambassador Gala_

**From the ashes, we will rise.**

Bellamy's head pounds.

Pocketing the letter, he stands, his breathing shallow and slow.

Dead on his feet...

He starts to walk, staring straight ahead as if he's in a trance. Clarke meets him near the entrance, looking slightly disheveled.

"Bellamy?" she asks. "Did you find-"

"Let's go," he says, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears.

"Get everything you need?" Clarke persists, a silent question in her eyes.

"Let's go," he says again, and he starts walking.

* * *

 

"Blake," Clarke says, flicking his cheek. "You okay?"

"Not anymore," he says reproachfully, rubbing his cheek.

"Seriously, Bellamy," Clarke says, crouching in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"There was nothing there for me," he says quietly, staring out the wall of glass in Clarke's house. He'd asked her earlier if everyone could always see her through it; she'd said there was some sort of setting that could make the window seem like there was no one in the house from the outside.

"There was something," Clarke says, her blue eyes boring into his.

"Maybe," he says halfheartedly, playing with some weird, curved remote. He accidentally hits a button, and the scene outside the glass window changes from a distant view of the skyline to a vast sea of stars and nebulae.

Noting Bellamy's sharp inhale, Clarke says, "You can change the scene outside."

"Yeah," he mumbles. 

"So..." Clarke begins, looking expectantly at him as she crosses her legs and sits down in front of him.

"So?" he asks.

"You found something," Clarke replies, her eyes narrowing. "What is it?"

Bellamy considers lying for a moment, but he withdraws the piece of paper from his jacket and hands it to her. He zips up the jacket while Clarke reads. It's a spare jacket similar to the one Clarke has, extra combat gear lying around her house, which is apparently a safe house for people like her.

It's warm, but Bellamy still feels colder than ice.

Clarke looks up at him when she's done, her eyes big with worry.

"You care about me," he says blankly, the words spilling from his mouth of their own accord.

"I care about everyone," she says, handing the note back to him.

"But you worry about me more," he says. "Why? You're a spy-you're not supposed to have any attachments."

"It's different with you," she says, her cheeks reddening. Her eyes keep flicking from the stars to his cheeks, as she's trying to memorize each detail of both.

Bellamy just shrugs and leans back in the sofa, sighing.

"The Ambassador Gala is right around the corner," Clarke says. "You and me-we'll go."

Bellamy doesn't feel quite so reassured by her words, and wonders if the writer of the note knows he's with Clarke.

He wonders who the writer is, but doesn't voice any of his questions.

"I'm going to bed," Clarke says after a long time of silence. She rises and looks at him for a full ten seconds before leaning down and kissing his cheek, right where she flicked him, her lips lingering a moment longer than they should.

It's better than when she flicked him, anyway.

"What was that for?" Bellamy asks, looking up at her.

She smiles a little as leans back and starts to walk away. "Consistency."

* * *

_"Clarke?" he asks, standing in the building where they found the Speculo. "Cla-"_

_"I'm here," a small yet strong voice says from behind him, and Bellamy turns._

_"Where are you?" she asks, walking over to him. "Where the hell did you go?"_

_"I don't know," he murmurs, his fingers aching to touch her._

_But he knows, that here, he never can._

_"I'll try to come home," he says, looking right into her eyes, because it's the closest he can get emotionally get to her._

_This Clarke's eyes are deadened and empty._

_"Come home," she says, so much like her counterpart yet so different. "Your family's waiting for you."_

_You're part of my family, too, he wants to tell her, but the words don't come out of his mouth, and the world spins up and away from his grasp._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. In Our Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy tries to understand the cryptic message left for him and prepares for his next step in going home.

He wakes before Clarke, his body shaking and his heart pounding from his dream, so he goes down to the kitchen to make breakfast. He's pleasantly surprised by the fact that there are enough supplies for him to make pancakes, something his mother had taught him years and years ago.

Clarke arrives a while after him, her hair flowing over her shoulders.

She just about slumps into her seat by the kitchen counter as Bellamy puts a pancake on the plate he'd set on the table for you.

"Thanks," she mutters, but her food is untouched.

"Bad night?" Bellamy asks, not looking at her.

"Regular night," she replies, her chin falling into her hands. "I fell asleep on my desk."

Bellamy, having done the same many time on the Ring, hums in sympathy. "Got anything to do today?" he asks, leaning forward on the countertop.

"Fortunately not," Clarke says, rubbing her temples and shaking hair out of her eyes.

Bellamy resists the urge to wrap her up in a hug and never let her go; she just looks downright adorable in this tired state.

"We should plan for what's ahead," Bellamy says, handing her a cup of coffee.

"Mmm," she murmurs, staring intently at her coffee.

"On second thought, you should probably get some more sleep before we do anything," Bellamy smirks, impulsively reaching out to poke the tip of her nose.

"No, no, no," Clarke says immediately, waving her hand in front of Bellamy's face. Bellamy catches her fingers within his own, unable to resist a wide grin.

"Don't make me slap that smile off your face, jackass," she murmurs, but their hands don't disconnect.

"Do it, I dare you," Bellamy says, and Clarke's about to make some snide comment but is interrupted by a yawn. "Okay, Princess," he murmurs, scooping her up. She immediately starts kicking her legs. "Bedtime."

"Never say that to me again. And don't tell me you aren't tired as well."

"Guess I could use some more sleep," Bellamy says when they arrive at Clarke's bed.

"So sleep," Clarke murmurs, burrowing under the blankets. Bellamy's about to go to his own room when Clarke reaches out and grabs his hand. "Get in."

Bellamy just smiles, and when he climbs into bed and wraps his arms around Clarke, it doesn't feel wrong or sudden or forced or bad at all.

* * *

"It's weird," Clarke mutters, removing the note from the scanner. "Not a trace of DNA except mine and some that I matched with this," she says, holding up a cotton swab of Bellamy's mouth. 

Bellamy shrugs, putting his bare feet on the table. Clarke gives him a dirty look.

"Come on, Clarke, I'm sure you do it, too," he says, rolling his eyes way back into his head.

"Be quiet, Blakey," she says, pointing a glove-clad finger at him. "I'm trying to figure this out."

"You've been at it since lunch."

"Which was two hours ago, Bellamy."

"We need a plan for the Gala," he says, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward.

"Bellamy," Clarke says, pulling her gloves off and powering down the sleek DNA scanner. "It's a long shot-"

"There's a chance," Bellamy interrupts, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "I'll take it."

Clarke pulls the lab coat off and opens the lab door, and Bellamy sees her visibly shiver in the chill of the study. Bellamy immediately shrugs off his jacket, racing over to push it onto her.

"Chivalrous asshat," she mutters, zipping it up.

"That's an oxymoron..." Bellamy falters, and suddenly it's just her in his vision, but they're in a different room, a different time, her hair pulled into a braid instead of being twisted into a high ponytail, wearing a radiation suit instead of a normal jacket.

"Hey," Clarke says, tilting her head to one side. "You okay?"

Bellamy nods, stepping back.

Clarke checks her watch. "Okay," she murmurs, shivering again in the too-big jacket. "Gala. Second Dawn event hall; they call it the Lotus."

"Because it's shaped like a Lotus."

"So smart," she coos, flicking a lock of hair away from his forehead. "It's in a couple of days. I'm not sure what exactly you're going to do there; I assume you'll get another message. Maybe. I'll have to give some big Ambassador speech and whatever. But," Clarke says, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "We're in the dark."

"Hey," Bellamy says, impulsively taking her hand. "We'll figure it out."

"I should be comforting you," Clarke says, smiling again. Bellamy's momentarily awed by the lack of the things that hold her back from smiling so freely. "Not the other way around."

Bellamy's eyes drop down to her lips, and he feels frozen, he feels like a stupid teenage boy again.

Clarke's eyes notice the movement, but neither of them does anything.

"Okay," he mutters, leaning back and blinking. "So we go, and look for a message."

"Uh huh," Clarke says, her blue eyes glinting with something that Bellamy could never understand in any reality.

* * *

For some reason, he's unbearably sleepy, so he's heading up to his room early. He left Clarke slumped over her desk in the study after trying to persuade her to go to bed early as well.

She has a pretty bad habit of falling asleep on desks.

But even as Bellamy settles into bed, sleep seems to recede a little, leaving him to mull over his thoughts.

His eyes flutter closed.

* * *

_"Echo?" he asks, turning around to see her framed by the dark green of the forest._

_"Bellamy," she murmurs, and she crashes into him, her lips connecting with his._

_For a moment, he just feels warm._

_"I miss you," she says against his lips._

_"I..."_

_He would say it back, but does he?_

_Does he miss her, or is he too busy with this Clarke to care?_

_Does that make him a terrible person?_

_"Is Clarke okay?" he asks._

_Echo's eyes darken._

_He steps out of her embrace._

_"I thought you would've realized by now that Clarke is capable of handling herself," Echo says stiffly._

_"Echo."_

_"I think you'd know if she's okay or not."_

_Bellamy remembers bright blue eyes..._

_Getting sadder..._

_And darker..._

_And then..._

_Blank._

_Empty._

_He's about to ask Echo something about Clarke, anything about her, but his words falter._

_He wants to go home, but where is home, exactly?_

* * *

He dreams some more, of Octavia, of Clarke, of everyone.

But mostly of Clarke.

He watches her smile.

Watches her cry.

Watches her burn.

He wakes shaking and gasping, his throat raw.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, Blake," a voice says gently, a hand pushing his hair back from his forehead.

He hasn't opened his eyes yet, so he just bathes in the darkness, swallowing and taking deep breaths.

"Bad dream?" Clarke asks, her cool fingers a pleasant feeling against his warm cheeks.

"Yeah," he breathes. 

"I'm sorry," she says, and though Bellamy can't see her face, he knows that she means it.

"What time is it?" he asks, a tear falling from the corner of his eye. Clarke's thumb brushes it away before it can disappear into his hairline.

"It's one in the morning," Clarke says, her fingers rubbing his scalp. The feeling is so wonderful Bellamy has to bite his lip to keep himself from sighing.

"Why are you still awake?"

"I was going to sleep in a minute and then I heard you."

"Mmm," he mutters. "Go to sleep."

"Okay, Bellamy," she says. "Okay."

And a few minutes later, a head settles on his chest, arms wrap around him, and Bellamy falls asleep holding Clarke in his arms.

* * *

_Her head is tilted up to the sky._

_Earth is pretty by day; the green, the flowers, the smell, the feel._

_But the nights are beautiful._

_Her blonde hair moves gently in the breeze, her eyes closed._

_They sit against the tree for a long time, staring at the stars._

_And they just talk._

_And Clarke tells him that she needs him and that he's not a monster and that he matters and that the hundred needs him and that she cares about him, damn it._

_"You do?"_

_"Against my better judgement, Bellamy."_

_And she turns to kiss him, despite the mess on his face._

_Her kiss is sweet and slow and it is loving._

_It tastes a bit like blood from the cut on Bellamy's lip, which she brushes her lips over, her touch and her presence healing him._

_"Why did you kiss me?" he asks when she pulls away, her blue eyes searching his own._

_She's beautiful._

_She's like the stars._

_She's just so far away._

_"Because I..." she trails off._

_Bellamy just looks at her, tries to memorize everything about her._

_"Because it's right," she says after a long time, her eyes back on the stars._

_His eyes are, as always, on her._

_"It's right?" he asks._

_"You and me," she murmurs, her fingers finding his and squeezing. "It's right."_

* * *

He's alone when he wakes up.

The room is bathed in the slight glow of predawn light, and Bellamy dimly realizes that there's only one sun here.

There was supposed to be two, right?

Bellamy shakes his head as he slides out of bed, straightening his shirt as he trudges over to the bathroom.

He freezes on the stairs when he hears a voice that isn't Clarke's.

"-Putting all your faith on the Speculo. Have you ever considered that he might not be-?" Russell, Clarke's supervising officer and apparent father figure asks, but Clarke cuts him off.

"There's no other explanation," she implores, crossing her arms. "Second Dawn could  _not_ have been involved. I'm looking into all their connections, all their people, hell, I even had Raven Reyes comb their system. Nothing."

Bellamy exhales at the mention of Raven being real in this world, but directs his attention back to the conversation.

"Clarke," Russell says gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't understand what's going on between you two, but you can't put everything on hold for him."

"I'm  _not,"_ Clarke hisses vehemently, then sighs in apology. "I can't just leave him."

"We could've figured it out, Clarke. And I know you know that."

Clarke turns red.

"You feel something for him."

"I don't, Russell."

"If you didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Clarke faces him head on. "It is my duty to fight for the safety of others. I'm ensuring Bellamy's safety."

"You're better at bullshitting your way out of an argument than that," Russell chuckles, removing his hand from Clarke's shoulder. Clarke rolls her eyes, a smile creeping onto her features.

"There's nothing between us," Clarke says, but there's a slight quaver in her voice that only Bellamy can pick up.

Russell stares hard into her eyes for a long moment, then nods, walking away.

Bellamy doesn't go downstairs until Russell's gone.

* * *

He fiddles with his suit, feeling immensely strange in the unfamiliar attire. Clarke had somehow gotten formal attire for him for the Gala.

He turns his head to the stairs, and it takes every cell in him to not let his jaw drop when Clarke walks down the stairs.

She's bathed in silver, her dress leaving her shoulders bare, and she just  _shines,_ like a diamond among the night sky.

"Quit looking," she says, but her grin doesn't match her tone. Her eyes just linger longer on him than they should, but Bellamy doesn't really mind it too much.

"Okay," he says, smiling back; it's hard not to. "Let's go."

And they walk, together, as they'd be in any reality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this story sucks lmao


	6. But If We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy gets a glimpse beneath the glittering exterior of this reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo yo  
> this sucks  
> thanks for making it this far

"And we must strive to  _connect,_ to be there for one another," Clarke says, her eyes shining as brightly as the rest of her as she stands at the podium at the center of the glass, lotus-like structure. "Our world is growing. And a house divided cannot stand."

Bellamy's nervous.

It seems like the whole world is watching him; it seems like the whole world has figured out that he is not meant to be here.

Clarke finishes her speech and brings a torrent of applause, but she manages to slip through the crowd and end up at his side.

"I don't like this," he mutters, his eyes flickering to hers.

Clarke doesn't look nearly as uneasy as him, but he can tell he understands; Clarke's a spy; she's designed to feel this discomfort wherever she goes. But because of that, she's become a remarkable liar and actress as well.

"Look for a message," she commands, turning into the version of Clarke he encountered after she pulled him from the transport ship wreckage. "Then we're out of here."

"It just seems too easy," Bellamy murmurs as Clarke starts to guide him into a dance.

"It was never easy for you, was it?" Clarke asks, her eyes darting everywhere, looking for something, anything.

Bellamy thinks about everything, his life from the day Octavia was born to now.

He does nothing, just keeps dancing with her.

The Clarke he sees at home is tired and soft and caring and passionate. The Clarke he dances with is hard and calculating and though admittedly badass, ruthless.

And of course, the Clarke of his own reality is a raging, broken shell, a product of both his and her own actions.

Her only bright spot, as Bellamy last remembered it, was Madi.

Did he take that from her?

He could've been fooled by the way she'd smiled at him after he woke up from cryosleep; he could've been fooled by it all, her brisk actions, her quick, convincing smiles.

But before he disappeared, Clarke was slowly spiraling into some abyss that he had feared more than once was of his own creation.

No.

Neither of them had apologized to each other. Not really. They'd said the words after they'd landed, but they were carefully crafted weapons rather than apologies.

_I'm sorry._

He allows himself to look at Clarke now, long hair and bright eyes and shoulders unburdened by what everyone has done.

And he realizes that even so, he could not bring himself to forgive or try to fit the real Clarke back into his life.

Or maybe he would.

He just doesn't know anymore.

He was remorseful for what he did to her back on Earth; he forgave her for leaving him in a fighting pit.

But he doesn't know what to think of her now that he's becoming acquainted with a Clarke she never got to be.

"Blake, what's bothering you?" Clarke asks suddenly as they walk over to one of the tables at the edge of the floor.

"Nothing," he replies.

Clarke doesn't push him, because once again, she understands.

Maybe the reason he's subconsciously begun to prefer this Clarke over the other is because this Clarke understands him.

She's like him.

But so is the real Clarke.

_For Christ's sake, Bellamy, do you just like her because she's happier?_

Bellamy tries not to swallow, because he knows Clarke's trained eyes will notice the movement.

Yeah, he wants to go home. But what will he do if he does?

Will he just run into Echo's arms and pretend nothing happened and watch Clarke take on too much responsibility and watch her shrivel under it and this time just let it happen to you because Spacekru reached a silent agreement to hate her-

He's quickly jerked to attention when a woman strides up to their table and whispers something to Clarke, causing the blonde to shoot up, her back straightening and her blue eyes glinting.

"Russell's here," Clarke says after the woman leaves. 

"Is he supposed to be?" Bellamy asks.

"Not necessarily," Clarke mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But we should go and talk to him."

"We?"

"I am not leaving you here alone, dumbass," she snaps.

"Consistency," Bellamy smirks, trying to just work her up even if just to soothe his anxious nerves.

Clarke eyes narrow. "Not here, Blake. This is war dressed in diamonds."

It's funny how that statement reminds him of her, both versions of her.

_War dressed in diamonds._

* * *

Russell.

Bellamy feels like he's seeing him for the first time.

He stands tall, an air of regality around him, his silver and brown hair shining in the light of the Lotus. His bright grey eyes are just as calculating as Clarke's, and Bellamy raises his chin up a little.

"Bellamy Blake," Russell says, nodding. "I've heard much about you."

Bellamy doesn't move a muscle.

"And I'm sure you've heard too much about me," Russell continues, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Russell," Clarke warns.

Bellamy clears his throat. "I have no one to relay information to. Sir," he adds.

Russell raises an eyebrow.

He continues asking Clarke questions that Bellamy can't even begin to understand, all presumably having to do with her Second Dawn mission and everything.

"And what did you find when you went back to the transport ship?" Russell asks, and Bellamy starts paying attention again, cursing himself for letting his thoughts wander.

It takes a few seconds for him to realize the question is directed at him.

"Oh, I-" he begins, but Clarke cuts smoothly across him.

"There was nothing. Not a single clue as to what may have happened, and nothing explaining Bellamy either," Clarke says, so confidently that Bellamy would've believed it if he didn't experience the truth. "Now, Bellamy and I are getting back to the party. And you should get back to HQ."

Russell nods and takes Clarke's hand, giving it a squeeze. "You be careful," he says gruffly, but there's a paternal light in his eyes that seems to melt Clarke a little.

"I will," she assures him.

"Both of you," Russell says, shooting Bellamy an unreadable glance, and then he slips away.

"We've gotten nowhere with the message," Bellamy says after a moment.

Clarke turns to him. "We don't even know where to start, Bellamy. We're relying on a whole lot of nothing."

Nothing feels real to him anymore, not a single action of his matters anymore, so Bellamy just rubs the back of his neck.

It's all just some pointless, directionless dream and he's not sure whether he should wake up or not.

"Let's get some air," he says, and Clarke pulls him up a flight of curved stairs and out onto a terrace.

Stars stretch out endlessly before him.

"Do you think I'm putting too much faith into these messages? The Speculo?" Bellamy asks, leaning against the railing.

"Yeah," Clarke says from behind him. 

"So why aren't you stopping me?"

"Because I believe there is an answer, Bellamy. I just don't think it's one you're hoping to find."

"You make me feel  _great,_ Clarke," Bellamy draws, massaging his temples.

"Bellamy," Clarke mutters. "I'm not kidding. You can't put all your eggs in one basket."

"I know," he says, letting the cool wind wash over his face. 

They stand in silence.

"Are you lonely?" he asks after a while.

"Yeah." Clarke doesn't even hesitate.

Music creeps up onto the terrace, beautiful keys of a piano.

_"Lights go out and I can't be saved..."_

"I'm sorry," he says.

"It's not bad," Clarke says. "But maybe I think that way because I grew up learning to be lonely."

Bellamy turns his gaze to her, his eyes sweeping over her sharp, regal profile.

"Spies don't have many attachments," Clarke says, still not looking at him, but Bellamy sees a hint of a smile on her face.

"You don't seem to be the person to follow that rule very carefully."

Her eyes darken.

"Sorry," Bellamy mutters. "I didn't mean-"

"There were two people," she says steadily, her eyes as unreadable as the night sky. "They died."

Bellamy feels a little unsteady.

"Their names were Finn and Lexa, right?" he asks before he can stop himself.

"How do you know?" Clarke snaps, her head whipping around to face him.

Bellamy doesn't have an answer. 

"I don't know," he lies. "I just... had a feeling?"

Clarke glares at him a little longer, but then her gaze softens.

"You're weird, Bellamy Blake," she says, looking as bright as the stars above.

"Thanks," he replies, feeling strangely lost.

"What about you?" she asks. "You lonely?"

He's not quite sure how to answer that question.

Well, he  _was_ lonely; he remembers days and weeks and months spent at a window, watching a planet burn and his heart burn along with it.

But he hadn't been alone.

Murphy was there to make jokes and piss him off to the point where Bellamy felt something other than emptiness.

Harper, one he hadn't really known before the Ring, was the only person he really trusted to talk about Clarke; Harper would share her favorite memories of her and Bellamy would just listen, pretending he was young and sitting by a fire burning in front of a dropship again.

Monty kept him busy with the algae farm, gave him something to care for when he didn't even want to care for himself.

Emori taught him Trigedasleng, listened to all his stories and myths of the stars with the wide-eyed intensity of a child that reminded him so achingly and yet so perfectly of Octavia before her heart blackened and shriveled from grief.

Raven was the one for tough love, screamed at him to keep going, had her arms wrapped tightly around him as he broke down many times in Clarke's old cell.

Echo, he hated for a while, but even she provided some physical relief that soon evolved into trust and love.

_(Because you love her, right?)_

~~_(I loved Clarke more)_ ~~

He was broken, yeah, but he was never broken and lonely.

"No," he answers, and it's the truth. Bellamy Blake simply isn't a lonely person, even if he feels it in the depths of his despair.

Clarke just nods, as if she won't even bother to apply the same thought to her own life.

It saddens him to know that Clarke's alone in every reality he knows her.

_She's not alone, she has ~~you~~ Madi._

_(You took that from her, too)_

Bellamy sighs deeply, his eyes closing. "Thanks for bringing me out here, Clarke."

_"Am I a part of the cure, or am I part of the disease, singin'..."_

"Anytime, Blakey," she responds, looking equally lost for a moment.

She looks so much like his Clarke that Bellamy feels a wave of tears swelling behind his eyes.

"I used to be able to play this," Clarke says as a new riff of piano echoes in the night. 

"Used to?" Bellamy asks.

"I stopped after my dad died," she states simply, but Bellamy watches her eyes grow heavy with memories. "I still play sometimes, but I never learned anything new. I'm just boring like that," she declares with a halfhearted smirk.

Clarke Griffin could never, ever be boring, that was for sure.

"You should play for me," Bellamy says impulsively. "I've never heard it before, it wouldn't be boring to me."

_"Home, home, where I wanted to go..."_

"I hope you make it home," Clarke says after a long time. "Russell meant no harm."

"I hope I make it home, too," Bellamy agrees, and he's not necessarily lying, but he's not really telling the truth, either.

He'd miss her.

This Clarke who was still capable of joy and simple pleasures and a Clarke who hadn't been shoved to the ground by the universe itself.

"Bellamy..." Clarke murmurs, her face turning to meet his, and it's dangerous,  _dangerous,_ territory, the way their eyes are straying to each other's lips and their hands are finding each other's and-

Something on the floor of the terrace catches his eye.

"Clarke," he says suddenly. "Look."

She turns, and they stare at a letter lying on the ground.

**B E L L A M Y  B L A K E**

_Level Two: Acquired_

_Congratulations, Mr. Blake. If you're reading this, you're another step closer to going home._

_Next Destination: Eligius Capital_

**_Objective: Find Daisy Ward_ **

**From the ashes, we will rise.**

Bellamy swallows.

An objective as well as a destination.

"Eligius Capital..." Clarke breathes, and Bellamy can  _feel_ how tense she is beside him, can  _feel_ the heat radiating from her body.

_Not the answer you were hoping to find..._

Bellamy takes deep breaths, trying not to crush the paper and the stupid silver letters.

The night breeze blankets them again, but it feels less like a comforting touch and more like a warning chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Clocks by Coldplay, which is honestly such a Bellamy-and-Clarke song that I NEEDED it to be in there.  
> Feedback is definitely appreciated, so are kudos and comments in general!


	7. We Go Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy makes a mistake that sends him spiraling into regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is mostly just angst sorry

Clarke is oddly silent on the way home on the sleek silver train that they take back to the station near the safe house.

And now, Bellamy's barely even got his shirt in his hand, ready to put it on when the door opens, slowly as if the person on the other side was afraid of waking the house itself.

Clarke's eyes don't even go down to his chest; they just stare right into his, and Bellamy can see a hint of something like pity in the glittering blue oceans.

"Clarke..." he begins.

"Bellamy," she finishes, stepping into the room. "I... we..."

"What?" he asks, pulling his shirt on.

"We won't go the Eligius Capital."

Bellamy opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to understand what she just said.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy," she says, but to Bellamy's horror, she doesn't sound quite so sorry. "We can't get the next message for a while. Not until my-"

"Mission is over?" Bellamy says, his voice rising, his anger rising.

Deep down, a part of him understands.

But now, he's just desperate.

Clarke crosses her arms. "Don't act like you forgot it existed," she says, an edge to her voice.

Bellamy's hopelessly outsmarted in this argument; he has no substantial reason for Clarke to do anything for him.

Once again, he regrets blurring the line between his Clarke and this Clarke.

"Clarke, for once, we have an answer," he implores, struggling to keep his voice even. "Daisy Ward. We can't stop now that we've actually got something."

"Actually, we can," Clarke snaps. "My mission, my duty to my country is my top priority."

"Really?" he asks. "Because it definitely didn't seem like that when we were alone."

Deep down, the logical part of him is ashamed of himself for even daring to use her own feelings against her, but he just wants some leverage.

He feels reckless and he feels ruthless.

He feels like the Rebel King again.

"Oh, really?" she says, stepping close to him. "You're going to do that, now?"

"Yeah, I  _am_ going to do that now!" he hisses. "I should've known that it would never matter to you, anyway. Designed to lie, grew up being lonely," he says bitterly, hating himself more with every word that refuses to just stay in his mouth.

Clarke looks like she's going to strangle him with his own tendons. "Oh,  _sorry_ I couldn't please the pretty little prince by giving every hour that I have. Sorry he's not my priority-"

"Sorry  _I_ disturbed the ice princess of the north, messed up her meticulously planned mission-"

They're almost nose to nose now, faces red with barely contained rage.

"I would think you just want me gone by now!" he explodes. "Since I've apparently been  _such_ an inconvenience to you-!"

Clarke grabs him by the collar of his shirt. "I don't have time for your childish tantrums, Blake-"

"Listen to me!" he roars. "Did you ever stop to think about the position I'm in or were you too wrapped up in your own life just the way I bet you always are-?"

Clarke shoves him, hard enough to send him stumbling.

"Fuck you," she says, dangerously calm, and walks out, slamming the door loudly behind her.

* * *

_"Stop! The air could be toxic!" Ark Princess yells, her light blonde hair swinging wildly in its low ponytail._

_He doesn't have to listen to her._

_"If the air's toxic, we're all dead anyway," he declares and he opens the dropship door._

* * *

_"Hey, you," she says, wiping a bit of blood away from the corner of his mouth. "Let's get this cleaned up."_

_Funny. She's the one who just destroyed an evil artificial intelligence system, and she's the one offering to take care of him._

_But he's exhausted, so he just lets her pull him into a room and get to work on getting all the blood and dust and grime off his face._

_"You okay?" she asks, dabbing at his face._

_"You shouldn't be the one asking me that," he murmurs, reaching out to touch the cuts on her chest._

_Clarke swallows._

_"I saw Lexa," she says after a long time. "After my mother told me that she'd kill you to get the passcode out of me."_

_Bellamy inhales sharply._

_Lexa._

_Of course._

_He hangs his head._

_Selfishly, he thinks of how Clarke will never, ever choose him._

_"Hey," she murmurs. "Look at me."_

_Bellamy looks up._

_She leans forward and gently, so gently brushes her lips against his._

_Bellamy exhales._

_"Clarke, if you're doing this just because you need someone-" he begins._

_"I do need someone," she interrupts. "Not anyone, though."_

_He looks into her eyes._

_"Just you," she says, simply, kissing his cheek, her tears splashing onto his face. "Just you."_

* * *

It should be Echo.

He should dream of her.

Her warm eyes and her soft touch.

But he dreams of Clarke, and only Clarke, whether it's a sharp nightmare or a sweet dream.

Always her.

He wants to apologize to her, both versions of her.

He fucked up.

Bad.

And he's fucking up with Echo, too, because Echo doesn't deserve this.

Echo doesn't deserve to be with someone who will always love another.

Dimly, Bellamy wonders if what Echo will feel if she realizes how much Bellamy cares for Clarke is the same as how Clarke felt when Raven landed on Earth and they found out the truth about Finn.

Bellamy sighs, annoyed that he's pulled a total Finn Collins on Echo.

But it's a lot more complicated than that; it really is.

He wonders what the real Clarke is doing right now.

if she's even real at all.

Bellamy shoves the covers off, missing Clarke's warmth, and slowly pushes the door open.

The house is silent; he can't even hear the ruffle of papers in Clarke's study, can't hear her walking around the house.

The door to Clarke's room is closed when Bellamy approaches it.

He raises his hands to knock, but retreats.

_Bellamy Blake, you fucking coward._

_Coward, coward, coward, coward, coward, coward-_

Swallowing, Bellamy steps away and back into his room, climbs into bed and doesn't get out for hours.

* * *

Clarke comes back after a while.

Bellamy feels like he should apologize, but he doesn't.

He just won't.

"You have to understand," Clarke says, leaning against the doorway, her eyes blank. "This is my priority."

"I know," Bellamy replies. "You don't give a damn about me."

"I didn't fucking say that, Bellamy."

"Yeah, but I can see it!" he snaps. "Always your mission, always trying to get to the bottom of it all. And you feel nothing for anyone but your own self."

The words are what he longed to say to a Clarke of a different world, of a different time, a Clarke who left him over and over.

Clarke looks like she wants to snap all his bones in half, her hands curling into tight fists.

"Don't be ungrateful, Blake," she spits, not a drop of kindness nor warmth behind her words. "It doesn't suit you at all."

* * *

 

She's not even in the house anymore.

She just left.

Bellamy checked every room.

And she's nowhere.

He opens the front door, but experiences a shock when he tries to step through the threshold.

He sighs.

_I'm so sorry._

But is he, really?

He thinks he feels something for this Clarke, but the more time he spends with her, the more he wants to just go home.

Every day with her is a day that he never got in real life with her.

And he's already fucking this up, too.

He walks over to the kitchen, taking in the spotless surfaces and bright lights.

_Could've, should've, would've-_

He stops thinking about the Other Clarke and starts to think of the real one.

_Solve the problem._

Is that all she's been reduced to?

A problem?

Bellamy takes a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth.

_What could I have done differently?_

For starters, he could've welcomed her with more warmth. He could've pulled her back into his family.

But it really isn't that easy; after all, everyone's angry at her with siding for McCreary.

 _My family,_ she'd said, as if they didn't matter to her anymore.

Clarke thought they were dead for years; all she had was Madi, and Bellamy took that, too.

He gets a headache trying to understand who's at fault here, and it doesn't seem quite right to either say that they're both wrong or to say that neither of them are wrong.

When did he start living in such a strictly black-and-white world?

Bellamy presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He could've tried to reason with her, could've just sat down with her and just  _try_ to catch up on the time they missed, just try, just try, just  _try._

Bellamy should've just  _noticed_ her; the signs were right there, every little action screaming that she was shoving all her grief and anger and sorrow down for them, for him. It was right in front of him, the signs that Clarke was pulling away, that Clarke was fading away. And now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to fix anything at all, with both Echo and Clarke.

He would've gone home, talked to her, become her friend again, and continue on with Echo, because Echo's the one for him.

She  _is._

Bellamy sighs again.

Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke.

It should be Echo.

Echo understands him, and he knows where Echo's loyalties lie. And most importantly, Echo's seen every awful thing Bellamy's done and Echo loves him anyway.

~~_(Clarke's seen it all and she still loves you, too)_ ~~

Echo's been there for him in the worst of his moments; Echo brought him back to life those years on the Ring.

It should be Echo.

It  _should_ be Echo.

It  _could've_ been Clarke.

Hell, it  _would've_ been Gina.

~~_(Echo killed Gina)_ ~~

~~~~"I'm sorry," he says to no one in particular, to everyone. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Clarke still hasn't returned after four hours, which Bellamy spent reading and staring at the door.

It's dark again.

He worries for her, even though he knows she can handle herself.

Still, he walks over to the door.

He waits, and he waits, and  _he waits._

Clarke doesn't come.

Eventually, he just sits on the stairs, staring at the door, hating himself.

Of course he had to mess this up, of course he had to hurt her, hurt everyone, because that's all he does. He blames everyone else for being the bad guy, blames them for betrayal. He thinks he fights monsters, but in the end, he ends up being the real monster.

He hasn't felt this way since his day trip with Clarke back on Earth.

How stupid he'd been; how stupid he is now.

And now he's trapped, trapped in his own mistakes, trapped in a world that isn't his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b e c h o n e e d s t o e n d


	8. Our Hands Are Tied Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy realizes that he's running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god I'm cringing salute to the people who have actually tolerated this fic for this long

_Arkadia burns._

_That was their last hope, and it's gone, going up in flames._

_Clarke stands and watches in resigned horror, still holding onto Octavia's hand._

_And for one insane, tactless second, Bellamy just wants to comfort her._

_But even he cannot begin to understand the routine Clarke goes through, because he simply isn't wired like her._

_Because, despite everything, Clarke will hope and hope and hope and that hope will always be shattered._

_And there's nothing he can do about it._

_He can't even let her know that he loves her, because he knows that her heart will always belong to others._

_Or maybe her heart will only ever belong to the dead._

_Hope, hope, hope._

_She hoped that Earth would be safe; she was wrong._

_She hoped she could keep the hundred alive; she was wrong._

_She hoped that Mount Weather would be safe; she was wrong._

_She hoped that her love could change the world; she was wrong._

_She hoped ALIE would mean nothing; she was wrong._

_She hoped they could make it out of the next mess; and Bellamy knows, watching the plumes of orange and gold engulf the large steel structure, that she'll be wrong again._

_Bellamy hates that she keeps hoping even when the others don't._

_He'll hate it even more to see her when her hope is gone._

_Hope is an essential part of Clarke Griffin._

_Who is she without hope?_

_Without persistence, without that belief that they will live, that she will keep them alive, even if she has to sell her own soul to keep everyone alive, she will do it, she simply isn't herself._

_Clarke will never care for herself, but she will always hope for others._

_If Bellamy squints, maybe he can see that hope fading from her eyes, blue with gold reflected in them from the fire._

_I'm sorry, he'd tell her, but maybe Bellamy saw it coming._

_Clarke gave him hope, but Bellamy loses it a lot more easily than she does._

_Arkadia burns._

* * *

 

_He can see the exact second where Clarke's heart shatters._

_She looks so small at that moment, standing in that stupid radiation suit, her face crumpling as she tries to contain a sob._

_Bellamy walks over to her, enfolds her into his arms._

_He wants to hold her until the end of the world; he wants to die on his feet with her in his arms._

_Her hands travel down and her fingers link just at the small of his back, and she holds him tightly._

_Clarke is falling, even though Bellamy is holding onto her._

_Yeah, he himself is a little unstable from the abrupt end of his goodbye to Octavia, but right now all he sees is Clarke, his hand coming up to cup the back of her neck._

_She thought her mother was all she had left, and Bellamy desperately wants to tell her-_

_You have me._

_But he never gets the chance, because he's always too late, or she's always too late, one of them is always too late._

_He doesn't know it yet, but she'll be too late._

_He doesn't know it yet, but he'll lose her again, for the last time._

_He'll leave her to die._

_She was too late._

_He was too late._

* * *

 

_She stands among the trees, her now-short hair waving in the wind, illuminated by the light of a thousand stars._

_He's back on Earth._

_And he just stands there, watching the rest of his friends embrace her, someone they thought to be dead, but somehow, miraculously lived._

_Echo stands a few feet apart from them, watching with a bored sort of curiosity._

_And Clarke Griffin is alive and in front of him._

_Raven smiles wider than Bellamy has ever seen her smile. Murphy and Emori hold Clarke's hands, grinning from ear to ear. Monty and Harper have their arms around her, talking and crying, and they're just so happy._

_Monty and Harper release her, parting like two sides of a sea, and there's nothing between him and Clarke but space._

_Literal, crossable space._

_And they run._

_Getting faster and faster with every step._

_And they crash into each other._

_And they tumble to the ground, but they fall together._

_And she's sobbing, her whole body is shaking against his._

_"You came home, you came home," she repeats over and over between her gasps. "You're home."_

_And looking into her eyes, he really is home._

* * *

 

Bellamy wakes with tears in his eyes, his neck and his back aching from falling asleep on the stairs hunched forward.

There's a blanket draped around his shoulders, and he turns to see Clarke asleep on the stair below his, her face covered by a curtain of her hair.

She stirs after a few moments, groaning as she stretches all her limbs out.

And then she turns to Bellamy.

And he misses her.

Not the Clarke sitting in front of him, but the Clarke he used to know, and suddenly Bellamy's fighting back tears.

"Why are you crying?" Clarke asks, noting the wetness in his eyes.

"Because I'm sorry," he replies, which is true, but not the whole truth. He wants to cry because he wants to return to a simpler time, even though things weren't really that simple. But god, Bellamy just wants to be back in that beautiful green forest, walking with Clarke, when his only worry was just Grounders.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I'm so sorry, Clarke. I didn't mean any of that, I swear."

Clarke looks into his eyes.

"I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you," he implores. "And I'm so, so sorry."

She's quiet for a long time before she finally says, "I know." She says it so quietly Bellamy almost doesn't hear her.

But he does, and that counts for something.

"Truce?" he asks, stretching his arm out.

Clarke takes his hand with a slight smile gracing her lips. "Truce."

* * *

"Holy shit," he moans. "Why are you so good?"

Clarke dips her spoon into his bowl. "It's just soup, Bellamy," she says, smiling.

"Best fucking soup I've ever had," he says.

Clarke laughs out loud, a sweet sound that warms Bellamy from his head to his toes.

Bellamy turns his head to hide his blush, and something catches his eye.

An envelope.

"Clarke," he says suddenly.

"What?" she asks.

Bellamy slides out of his chair and walks over the envelope, holds it up for her to see.

"What does it say?" Clarke asks, walking over to him.

_Time Limit: Two Weeks_

_Complete Mission before the deadline or you will_ **_not_ ** _move on._

**From the ashes, we will rise.**

Bellamy takes a deep breath and hands the envelope to Clarke.

Her eyebrows raise when she's done reading it.

For the first time, he thinks that this may not be some alternate universe at all.

Levels and time limits?

He massages his temples.

This must be some strange, drawn-out dream, maybe coma induced. Or, it could be some sort of simulation. Or game.

None of those options really make any sense to him at all.

"I'll do everything I can," Clarke says suddenly. "I'll try and get it done, okay?"

Much to Bellamy's surprise, Clarke actually looks like she's... panicking.

"Clarke," he murmurs. "You don't have to worry-"

"Two weeks is not a lot of time," Clarke declares, walking into the study. She picks up a sleek, small tablet and starts sliding and tapping her fingers. When she's done, she all but slams the device back down on the table, and starts pacing around the study. Bellamy just watches her, wondering why she seems so stressed.

"This is the priority now," she says on her fifth lap.

"Clarke-"

"We need to get you home soon, Blake. Now that there are time limits and objectives and bullshit..."

"What do you think will happen if we  _don't_ do what the messages ask of us?" Bellamy asks.

"I feel like whoever's sending these messages hold all the cards, Bellamy," Clarke says, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I seriously think you won't be able to return home if we don't do this."

It's a little suspicious, but Bellamy finds that he agrees.

The tablet starts vibrating, and Clarke jogs over to the front door.

"Russell," she greets when he comes in. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

"I was at  _work,"_ Russell mutters. "What's this about?"

"We have to go back to Eligius," Clarke says, putting her hands on Russell's shoulders. "Now."

"Why?" Russell asks her, crossing her arms. Clarke looks hesitant, but she tells him all about the messages and objectives.

Russell rubs his eyes a couple times, asking her to repeat a few segments of the story for clarity.

"Please, Russell," Clarke says. "We have to. I think it's his only way home."

"I understand, Clarke," Russell says after a long moment. "But I think we'll have to terminate your activity in this op if you go through with it. You've taken on a lot at once-"

"I can handle it," Clarke says immediately. "I'll be fine."

Of course she'd take on this much responsibility in this world as well.

"Clarke," Russell implores. "This could make everything collapse. I'm telling you, you  _should_ drop out-"

"I don't have to. You'll stand in while I'm gone. Raven Reyes and John Murphy can make a cover for it. We have to do this."

"Reyes and Murphy aren't even in our team, Clarke. You can't rely on them to make everything look perfect whenever you need to go do something of your own," Russell states sternly.

"They will for me," Clarke replies. "Can we go or not?"

Russell looks at Bellamy, then back at Clarke.

Bellamy can tell he doesn't like it, even though he nods his head in consent. "Go ahead," he says. "If this fails, it's on you, Clarke."

Clarke doesn't seem too pleased by that, but she looks visibly mollified just the same.

"And you. Blake," Russell says, turning to Bellamy, and he tries not to salute.

"Yes, sir?" he asks. 

"If something happens to her, it will be over for you," Russell says simply.

A muscle twitches in Clarke's jaw but she says nothing.

Russell walks out of the house without a second glance.

* * *

Days later, Bellamy's zipping up his backpack, having packed everything he thinks he needs.

Clarke sits on the kitchen counter, watching his every move.

"Back home," she begins after a long silence. "Did you love anyone?"

Bellamy freezes, caught off guard by the question.

"Yeah," he says, feeling a tug in his heart for both Echo and Clarke. "I did."

Clarke nods, her eyes unfocused.

"I loved someone before," Bellamy continues. "I loved her so much. And... things happened, and I thought she died... for six years I believed that she was dead, that I left her to die..."

Bellamy swallows, keeping the tears at bay.

"And in those six years, I guess I found some physical relief in someone else. And I guess that turned into love. And the girl I thought to be dead turned out to be alive and..."

"You guess?" Clarke asks, raising her eyebrows at him.

"I don't know," he says truthfully. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

"Do you know if you loved the first person more or the second person more?"

Bellamy shrugs. "I thought I couldn't live knowing that the first woman was dead. But I guess I am."

Bellamy turns to face Clarke. "Echo... Echo just kind of made me forget about the pain of losing the first woman. Can you love two people at the same time?" he asks her. 

"Maybe you can," Clarke says, and she sounds strangely sorrowful when she says. "But I don't think you ever stopped loving the first woman, even when you thought she was dead. And this Echo person... I don't know. Maybe she helped you forget, but I don't think she ever really healed you."

Bellamy puts his hands in his pockets.

"Someone told me once," Clarke murmurs. "That, in life, you only get one  _true_ love. Someone you'll never forget, never completely stop loving even if you think you're over them." Clarke taps her fingers on her knees. "Sounds like a load of bullshit to me, but maybe Echo's not that love for you."

"Maybe," Bellamy murmurs, feeling more confused, but also a bit more like he understands himself.

And sitting in that bright kitchen, Bellamy Blake makes a promise to himself, a promise to hold onto every moment he has with this Clarke, a Clarke he never got to know in real life, a Clarke who hasn't been broken by him.

He promises to enjoy it all, even if it isn't fair to his family back home.

He dreads the day it's gone, and he knows it'll end one way or another.

But for now, this is happiness, this is safety, this is contentment, this is  _Clarke,_ the Clarke she deserved to be.

For now, Bellamy will let this be his reality, even though it's not real.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey this chapter was short-ish sorryyyy


	9. If We Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke run into a bit of trouble.

They are quiet when the train finally pulls into an Eligius station.

"You ready?" Clarke asks, flicking his knuckles.

"Don't know where to start, so no," Bellamy says, rubbing his knuckles. "What is it with you and flicking me?"

Clarke flicks the corner of his mouth.

"Ow-!" he snaps, but is silenced by Clarke's lips planting a chaste kiss where she flicked him. Her lips just tantalizingly brush the corner of his, and he feels her smiling against his cheek.

"I don't think you've ever heard the rule where if you kiss a place that hurts, you make it all better," Clarke says with a slight smirk.

"My lips hurt," Bellamy says.

"Nice try, Blake."

Bellamy's unable to keep a smile off his face as they step off the train, and he finds his eyes being glued to Clarke more than usual.

It's a nice feeling.

Bellamy's smile disappears as they step out of the station and into the rainy afternoon.

"Don't like rain?" Clarke asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

He likes rain; it's just that this rain reminds him of black rain.

The thought startles him; he hasn't thought about Praimfaya in so long.

Whenever he does, all he remembers are the launch doors closing, the rocket shooting up to the sky without Clarke in it.

The drops of black rain burning through his suit as he ran through Arkadia.

"Rain's great," he mutters darkly. 

Clarke tips her head up to the sky, attracting a few stairs from the people walking by with their umbrellas. Bellamy watches her, ignoring the chill in his hair from the raindrops, and watches water course down her neck and disappear into the neck of her shirt.

Bellamy turns away.

"We should go," he says, clearing his throat.  "You're gonna get a cold."

Clarke laughs a little as they go over to a covered seating area against the wall of the station. Bellamy reaches into his backpack for a bottle of water, but sees something else in the inside pocket.

_For god's sake._

**B E L L A M Y  B L A K E**

_Daisy Ward: Cordelia Heights_

_Room 1456_

"From the ashes, we will rise," Bellamy mutters to himself, not bothering to read the last line.

"What was it this time?" Clarke asks.

"We go to Cordelia Heights. Must be some apartment. Her room number's here."

He hands the paper to her, and Clarke reads it a few times before tearing it up and throwing it in the trash.

"What the fuck?" he whispers.

"I memorized it, Blakey," Clarke bites back. "Room fourteen fifty-six."

"Cor-"

"-Delia Heights," Clarke finishes.

"Wasn't Cordelia your middle name?" Bellamy asks.

"It is," Clarke replies, zipping up her jacket and pulling the hood up. 

Bellamy does the same, and they walk back out into the rain, as he tries to convince himself that the water that falls from the sky isn't the prelude to the end of the world.

* * *

"Fancy place," Bellamy mutters, staring at the glass windows passing by as they stand in the elevator. Clarke nods, looking like a brushstroke of art against the white walls, her blonde hair shining against her black clothing.

"Apparently Daisy Ward was a fancy woman," Clarke replies, stepping out of the elevator when it stops.

"Fourteen fifty-six, fourteen fifty-six..." Bellamy murmurs, striding down the hall. "Got it."

Clarke steps up and holds a card to a screen attached to the door.

It swings open to reveal five men in dark gear, all holding guns aimed right at them.

Whereas Bellamy's surprised and a little annoyed, Clarke's eyes shine with glee.

"Oh, yeah," Clarke says. "This'll be fun." And then she launches herself at them, her arms and legs soaring. Bellamy joins the fray, and he finds that he feels a little better after knocking them out.

"Blake can fight," Clarke says, flicking her head to the side to get her hair out of her eyes, a gesture that makes Bellamy's mouth go strangely dry. "Didn't know that."

"Had a fair amount of experience," Bellamy replies, running his hand through his hair. Clarke's eyes follow the movement carefully, and she opens her mouth to say something, but stops.

"It's always children," a woman with silvery blonde hair and a tall, willowy finger says, pointing yet another gun at them. "But you, you're an Ambassador, aren't you? Second Dawn won't be very pleased to hear that they have a rat in their system-"

"Daisy Ward," Bellamy interrupts. "Do you have something for us?"

"Well, you certainly have something for me. Now, it's your choice whether you come quietly or not." Ward gives Clarke a dirty look. "Abby Griffin's daughter? You look so much like her. Let's hope you're as smart as her as well."

Clarke crosses her arms and steps close to Ward. "You're not taking anyone into custody. Not Bellamy. And you're not taking me."

"You know," Ward says, stepping close to Clarke as well. "Jake said that before we took him-"

For a second, pure agony and anger and confusion passes across her face.

It's a second too long, and it's all Ward needs to drop the gun and pull Clarke close to her, a wickedly sharp knife held to her throat.

Bellamy grabs his own gun hidden in his jeans and tries not to wince when he sees streams of blood dripping down Clarke's throat.

"I assume you received their message, Mr. Blake," Ward says, smiling slightly at Bellamy. Bellamy looks to Clarke, who shakes her head imperceptibly, causing more blood to run down her throat.

"Wouldn't you know?" Bellamy asks, stepping forward. "Let her go."

"We both know Ms. Griffin can easily free herself. But unlike you, she knows who I am. So it's not a good idea to let her go, don't you think?"

Ward slowly draws the knife across Clarke's throat. Clarke doesn't even wince.

"No."

"Bellamy-" Clarke warns.

"Let her go!" he snaps, his finger squeezing the trigger. Ward holds the knife out and angles it, ready to drive it right into the side of Clarke's neck.

Bellamy shoots.

Ward releases Clarke, dead before she even hits the ground.

"Bellamy," Clarke breathes. "The authorities are gonna come soon. We have to go."

Bellamy's paralyzed.

This was his last chance.

Daisy Ward was his last chance.

"Bellamy!" Clarke implores, suddenly a lot closer to him. "We need-"

"She's dead," Bellamy says.

Clarke shakes her head. "Blake..."

"She had the next message, Clarke!"

Clarke, evidently following his train of thought, grabs his shoulders. "Bellamy, I'm sure there's another way-"

She stops talking, her eyes sliding past him to land on something else. Clarke releases him and steps past him, then returns with an envelope clutches tightly in her hand.

Bellamy grabs it and pulls the letter out with shaking fingers.

_Level Three: Acquired_

_Congratulations, Mr. Blake. If you're reading this, you're another step closer to going home._

_It all starts with The Origin. Find him, find your way back home._

**From the ashes, we will rise.**

"Let's go," Clarke snaps, and drags him out of the building.

* * *

"Who was Ward and why'd she know so much about you?" Bellamy asks, staring at the food lying untouched in front of him. "And why didn't the Eligius people find us already?"

"I had Raven Reyes mess with the Cordelia Heights surveillance," Clarke murmurs. "She's in another department, but a friend of mine who owes a few favors."

Bellamy raises his eyebrows, wanting her to continue.

"Ward's a Second Dawn general," Clarke says, closing her eyes and leaning back. "She knew my mother and father. Ward used to be Eligius, but turns out she was loyal to Second Dawn the whole time."

"You knew since we got the message," Bellamy says, "and you never told me? Why?"

"I'm not gonna let my personal life interfere with this," Clarke says. "Better if I just carry out the task as if it has nothing to do with me."

Bellamy takes a bite of the pasta, which is definitely not as good as Clarke's cooking. "The Origin," he says. "Know who that is?"

Clarke sighs. "I know someone who does."

Bellamy wonders how many ties Clarke's life can have with his problem here.

"There's only one person who knows where he is," Clarke continues, drumming her fingers on the table.

"Let me guess; you know who that is, too."

"Of course I do," Clarke says with a slightly bitter smile. 

"Who?"

"My mother," Clarke says, her expression neutral. Bellamy considers asking her more, but doesn't.

Now that he thinks about it, Clarke is essentially completely closed off from him.

He's forgotten who she is, and now Bellamy remembers that the Clarke Griffin of this world is built on a foundation of lies and secrecy.

And of course, Clarke has easily settled into a friendship with Bellamy to keep him from investigating her too closely.

Bellamy's not sure if he likes the thought; it leans too much towards the notion that Clarke doesn't care about him at all.

But she protects him; that has to count for something, doesn't it?

Bellamy finishes the rest of his food in silence. "So what's the plan?" he asks when he's done eating.

"My mother dropped off of the Eligius radar a long time ago," Clarke says, staring out the window, watching the rain pour. "I could use my cover in Second Dawn to find out where she is, but that could easily have irrevocable consequences. I don't know, Bellamy. These messages just keep getting more and more complicated. And with the time limit of the last one, assuming it's the same for this... I don't know if we have enough time to pull it off."

Bellamy leans back, crossing his arms. "These messages are meant for me, but whoever sends them knows you."

"I sent some of the older ones to Russell for analysis," Clarke muses. "I just don't understand. And it's not even always about the present."

"Whoever sent these knows all about your past," Bellamy finishes. "I take it not a lot of people know?"

Clarke nods, and once again, everything about her is unreadable.

"Another option would be to find a Speculo and shove you through it," Clarke says after a while. "But we don't even know if those exist, and we don't know where you'd end up if we did that. So I guess we keep getting these messages."

"I don't like where it's going," Bellamy mutters. "It seems too easy and too hard at the same time. It just..."

"Doesn't make sense," Clarke finishes. "Doesn't make any sense at all, Blake."

"Your thing with your mom," Bellamy begins. "I'm sorry."

"I am, too," Clarke says. "But that really doesn't matter, okay? Let's just get this done as soon as possible."

"Clarke-"

_"Bellamy."_

He reaches across the table and takes her hand. A dull blush colors Clarke's cheeks, but she doesn't pull away. 

"I don't like it any more than you do," she says. "But don't waste your energy worrying about me."

Bellamy sighs, turning his head to the foggy window.

"If all goes well," Clarke says, her fingers playing with his. "You'll be back home and out of this mess. Okay? Let's just keep going."

If he does make it home, Bellamy would only return to a larger mess.

"Alright," he mutters, trying to smile for her sake.

Clarke smiles back, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

And so they sit there for a while in that mostly-empty diner, watching the rain pour. They have something to move on to, somewhere to go, but to Bellamy, it seems as if they've reached a stalemate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up gucci gang comments and reviews are always welcome


	10. We Said Our Dreams Will Carry Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke get a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter basically has no plot and it's just them hanging out and being angsty and stupid because I just need them to take a break goddamn   
> this will be short because it's kind of an intermission? idk

"I changed my mind," Clarke says as they walk out of the diner, pulling her hood up. "I  _don't_ want to do this right away."

Bellamy turns to her. "What  _do_ you want to do?"

Clarke takes his hand in hers. "I have an idea," she says with a smile.

Bellamy can feel a smile of his own rising to the surface as she pulls him down the street. Night has fallen by now and the rain peters out. The lights of the city are a change from the stars he'd become so used to seeing, but he likes them, too. They walk into a large parking garage, and Clarke quickly finds a large black car. 

"Ever been in a car before?" she asks, nudging his shoulder with her own.

"Been in a rover," he mutters. "This yours?"

Clarke nods. "After all, I do live here when I'm not on a mission. Get in."

Bellamy slides into the passenger seat. "Where are we going?" he asks as Clarke starts the car.

"Everywhere," she says, pressing a button on the dashboard so the top of the car slides away. The night has gotten hot mere minutes after the rain stopped, so Bellamy pulls his jacket off. Clarke does the same, tossing it in the back seat. She drives out of the parking garage, and into the city of lights.

"You okay?" Bellamy asks her, watching the buildings go past.

"Yeah," she says. "Now shut up and watch."

* * *

She takes them right out of the city, and onto a deserted road on the side of a mountain overlooking a coastline. The edges of the ocean glow, and Bellamy just watches, mesmerized by the sight of the world.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs at one point, talking about the ocean, but when he says it, he's looking at Clarke.

"I know," she murmurs, letting the music wash over them.

_"Oh, brother, I can't, I can't get through..._

_I've been trying hard to reach you 'cause I don' know what to do..."_

Bellamy leans back in his seat, inhaling the sweet, salty air.

Clarke hums the tune under her breath, and god, her voice is one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard.

_"Oh, brother, I can't believe it's true..._

_I'm so scared about the future, and I wanna talk to you..._

_Oh, I wanna talk to you..."_

The song makes Bellamy strangely sad, nostalgic for something he's never had. 

What that thing is, though, he just doesn't know.

"When'd you start doing this? The whole secret agent thing?" he asks.

"You make it sound like an old movie," Clarke says with a smile. "But I guess the term's right."

Her eyes linger on the road. "I was sixteen when my father died. Seventeen when my mother betrayed Eligius. Russell took me in, and I've been officially doing this since I was eighteen."

"You haven't been doing it for super long, though," Bellamy says.

"Not officially," she says with a hint of a smirk.

_"You can take a picture of something you see..._

_In the future, where will I be?"_

 

"What about you?" Clarke asks. "I don't know a ton about you. Enlighten me."

Bellamy knows she's trying to distract him from her own life, but he goes on anyway.

"We lived on a space station. All of mankind, crammed onto an assortment of floating tin cans."

"Sounds lovely," Clarke mutters. "Why?"

"Nuclear war," Bellamy replies. "Earth just wasn't survivable anymore. And then, a hundred prisoners under the age of eighteen were dropped to the ground in a dropship. I was a hundred and one, because I didn't want my sister to go alone. I was over eighteen."

Clarke nods thoughtfully.

"The ground was survivable," Bellamy continues. "And here we were, thinking we could do whatever the hell we wanted. But we weren't alone. There were tribes of people- we called them Grounders- who, through the process of natural selection, survived until we made it. We went to war with them a couple times, went to war with a secret bunker society, possessed by an evil artificial intelligence system, and then there was  _another_ nuclear apocalypse, and the Earth became unsurvivable for five years, and most of the people either died or went into a bunker, I went to space with a couple of people, came back down, then there was another-"

"Nuclear apocalypse," Clarke replies. "Jesus Christ, Bellamy. That's a shit ton of shit."

Bellamy laughs a little.

Clarke pulls over at the edge of the road, on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The top of the car covers them again, and Clarke gets out of the car. Bellamy's side of the car faces the ocean, so he just stares out the window for a long time. Clarke gets into the backseat, her legs hanging out the car.

Bellamy gets out too and goes to the other side of the car to sit behind her and peer at the scenery over her shoulder.

"Do you think Earth was like this?" Clarke asks breathlessly. "You know, the planet where it all began."

"It wasn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's the planet we landed on," Bellamy says.

Clarke leans back and into Bellamy. He's surprised by the gesture, but he lets his chin drop to her shoulder.

"This is a lot more beautiful," Bellamy says, staring at the stars and the ocean glowing below. "More colors, more peace."

Clarke nods, and Bellamy hopes she can't feel his heart pounding against her back.

He remembers feeling this nervous in a bunker, holding onto the real Clarke's shoulder as he taught her how to shoot. Clarke leans forward and Bellamy leans back, and they're back to having a slightly respectable amount of distance between them.

"The girl you fell in love with," Clarke says after a long time. "You left her. Before one of the apocalypses. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you love any of them anymore? Those people."

Bellamy does, he really does. They're the only ones he loves now.

But then he looks at Clarke, this Clarke, and he's not so sure anymore.

His heart longs for the Clarke back home, the Clarke he knows.

But he doesn't really know her anymore.

And the more he longs for the real Clarke, the more he starts to feel for this one.

Facing his feelings for this alternate Clarke is like watching a trainwreck happen in slow-motion.

Falling in love with any of the Clarke's is the trainwreck.

And it's strangely beautiful.

It's like the universe allowed him a small pocket of time he could never really have, just a world in which he could love Clarke Griffin with no regrets.

Maybe he'd regret it later.

But as he leans forward and tucks a piece of Clarke's hair behind her ear, he doesn't regret anything at all.

"Bellamy," she breathes, turning her head to face him.

Their noses bump together, and then their lips in a tentative yet sweet kiss. He would think that his first kiss with Clarke (any Clarke, if he'd ever gotten the chance) would be full of an untamed fire which could be the only way to describe his feelings for her, but it's gentle and calming, Clarke's hands coming up to cup his jaw and run her thumb over his cheek.

There's a beautiful intensity in her eyes when they finally release each other, an intensity that makes Bellamy want to cry and smile and kiss her and hold her and eliminate every single layer of clothing between them and be so close to her that neither would know where Bellamy ends and Clarke begins.

It's the way Clarke's eyes used to be before Mount Weather.

"You should do that again," Clarke says with a smirk that soon ends up against Bellamy's own smile.

He kisses her again and again and again, their kisses losing innocence as they grow in number. Clarke ends up in his lap, her knees clasping his hips, a hand cupping the back of his and the other buried in his hair.

She seems to glow in the darkness of the night, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders as Bellamy slowly pushes the jacket off her shoulders. Her eyes glow like sapphires as she cautiously removes Bellamy's jacket and then his shirt, her fingers brushing the scars on his torso.

"Clarke," Bellamy murmurs, his hands settling on her hips. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she says, her blush visible even without a light shining on her face.

Bellamy just chuckles, his hands playing with the hem of her shirt.

For a moment he forgets that this is a different Clarke, and he lets himself imagine that he's in the backseat of a Rover, on a different planet, in a different time.

And of course, it's still Clarke.

It will always be Clarke.

No matter what world he's in.

He will make it out of this world some way or another, so he silently thanks Clarke's for the memories as he pulls her shirt off.

She looks a little embarrassed, but there's a gentle happiness in her eyes. Bellamy leans forward and kisses her, his mouth exploring hers in wonder.

"I don't want to go too fast," she murmurs against his lips. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Bellamy replies with a smile, because it is. 

Honestly, just being near Clarke is more than okay with him.

Clarke smiles back and pulls her shirt back on, then hands Bellamy his own. When they've dressed again, she wraps her arms around him and gently sets her head against his chest.

He loves Clarke Griffin. He loves every single bit of her, every single iteration of the girl who fell into his world and set it on fire.

So he holds her reverently, buries his nose in her hair, and lets himself live in a world where he didn't lose her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is Talk by Coldplay. A song that not only really represents Bellarke, but the 100 as a whole, just a generally, beautifully sad concept


	11. And If We Don't Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy faces both internal and external demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be my last update for a couple of days, since I'm going on vacation

He takes it back.

He does regret it, he does regret kissing this Clarke.

But at the same time, he doesn't.

Maybe the part of him that doesn't regret kissing her is the part that can't distinguish between the Clarke at home and this new Clarke.

And maybe Clarke regrets it, too, because she seems weirdly subdued when they make it back to the parking garage.

"Bellamy-"

"Clarke-"

They both say each other's names at the same time and allow themselves a small smile before becoming serious again.

"You go first," he tells her.

"No, you," she replies.

"We can't do that again," Bellamy blurts.  _"That."_

It's not like he hated kissing Clarke. But now that he thinks about it, it just doesn't seem right anymore.

"I was gonna say the same thing," Clarke mutters, looking towards the direction of the train station.

"I'm sorry," Bellamy murmurs, his lips buzzing with the memory of her own.

"I'm sorry, too," Clarke says, getting out of the car and grabbing her things. "I wasn't supposed to do that."

She seems cold and hard again; she seems like the Clarke who found him in the wreckage.

Why'd she have to be so damn unpredictable?

"Clarke-"

"Let's just drop it," she says. "And act like it never happened. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds okay," he mutters.

They walk to the station in silence, and they're about to step into the warmth when a woman steps in front of them.

She bears a startling resemblance to Clarke, and Clarke visibly blanches when she sees her.

"Clarke," the woman says, almost warmly. "You and your boyfriend are coming with me."

* * *

"We're not going anywhere with you," Clarke snaps immediately. "How do you know where we are?"

"Russell told me," the woman says. Clarke's fingers curl into fists as she takes deep, steadying breaths.

"Clarke," Bellamy says, stepping forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Shut up," she hisses, barely even turning her head in his direction. "Why the fuck would Russell ever tell you anything."

"I can answer all your questions if you come with me," the woman persists.

"That what you said to Dad before you turned him in?" Clarke asks, her words dripping with venom.

_Oh._

It's her mother.

"Come with me," Abigail Griffin repeats. "Or I won't ask so nicely next time."

Griffin's hands drop down to her pockets to reveal the barrel of a gun.

Clarke grabs her own gun.

"Come on, Clarke. You don't want to kill me," Abigail says.

"No, but I know a lot of people who do," Clarke says. 

"I'll take you to the Origin," her mother replies.

"We  _don't_ need your help," Clarke snaps.

"Clarke," Bellamy repeats, a warning edge in his voice. She takes a deep breath and turns the full force of her glare on him.

"We do," Bellamy murmurs. "We need her."

Clarke looks ready to snap all his bones in half, but after a long moment, she huffs.

"I'm only doing this for you, Blake," she hisses. "You better hope I don't regret it."

Abby nods, clearly pleased with the transfer. "Let's go," she says. "Don't want to miss our train now, do we?"

* * *

"Underground safe-house? Really laying it on thick, aren't you,  _Mom?_ _"_ Clarke spits as they follow her.

"Please cooperate with him," Abby says. "He is the only one who can help Mr. Blake now, right?"

Clarke gives him a poisonous look. "Guess he is," she mutters.

"Here he is," Clarke's mother says, pushing open a thick metal door.

_No._

_No, no, no, no, no._

Jaha?

"Ms. Griffin. Mr. Blake. I've heard quite a lot about you two. I'm glad you were smart enough to follow my messages."

Clarke tilts her head up, the only sign of her realization.

She notes the recognition that must be pretty clear on Bellamy's face, and looks at him with a question in her eyes.

Bellamy shakes his head a little.

"So it was you," Clarke declares, turning back to Jaha, glaring at his white beard. "What do you really want? And how do we get Bellamy home?"

"So many questions," Jaha murmurs. "Restrain them."

Bellamy's arms are roughly seized and his hands are bound by handcuffs in front of him. Clarke fights, punching one of Jaha's men, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, in the eye. But they get her, too, and she sports a bruise blooming on her cheekbone as she's forced to her knees.

"Jake asked questions, too," Jaha says, crouching to face her. Clarke stares right back, her eyes sharp.

"Too many for liking, wasn't it, Jaha?" Clarke spits. Jaha looks a little annoyed by the way she addresses him, but more concerned by what she's insinuating.

"What happened with me and Jake was a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstandings don't cost you your life!" Clarke yells. "Not here!"

"Coming from people like Abby and Jake, I'd think you'd be smarter," Jaha says, standing up. Clarke also rises to her feet without using her hands for support, looking as angry as Bellamy had ever seen her in any world.

"Abby was smart," Jaha continues. "It's a shame that it got Jake killed-"

Clarke launches herself at Jaha, kicking and screaming like a rabid animal. If Clarke was in her normal state, she'd have a more methodical, graceful approach; but Bellamy can tell she's blind with anger.

Jaha slides a syringe out of his pocket and drives into Clarke's neck, not being gentle at all. She collapses against him, her face of anger turning to one of horror before her eyes close and she falls to the ground with a thud.

"What the hell did you do?" Bellamy asks.

"Nothing harmful," Abby answers. "She was making too much noise anyway."

Bellamy doesn't move; he knows not to lose his head in these situations.

"You say you'd like to go home, young man?" Jaha asks, crossing his arms.

Bellamy says nothing.

"The Speculo, the disturbance of reality from which you emerged, exists," Jaha says. "There is one where you can choose your designated destination and go."

"What's your point here?" Bellamy snaps.

"It is located at the top of the Tenebris Tower, one of the main government buildings, twin to the Lux Tower."

"Light and Dark," Bellamy translates.

"The Tenebris is under lockdown. How you make it in is up to you. We can release you, but on one condition."

"Which would be?"

"Leave without Clarke," Abby says. "She won't be leaving this place."

Bellamy could do it; he has no real ties to a person who isn't real.

The word 'no' is frozen in his mouth.

"I'll think about it," he says after a few tongue-tied moments. 

"Of course," Jaha murmurs, and with that, he and his men leave, followed by Abby.

Bellamy tries to get out of the handcuffs, but it's no use. He scrambles over to Clarke.

"Clarke," he murmurs, shaking her arm. "Clarke!"

He leans back. "Damn it."

Clarke starts shaking, and then her blue eyes snap open, bursting with a familiarity that Bellamy hasn't seen since-

"Bellamy?" she asks. "Bellamy, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," he answers. "Are you okay?"

"Are you kidding me? Are you? What happened after you fell?"

"After I what?" he asks. "Clarke, what are you talking about?"

"The pool," she snaps, her eyes urgent. 

"Pool?" Bellam repeats, feeling stupid. "Clarke-"

"For god's sake, Bellamy! Don't you remember that silver chemical pool?"

Bellamy freezes.

"Clarke," he murmurs.  _"Clarke."_

_"What?"_

It's her.

It has to be.

"Clarke, what's the last thing you remember?" Bellamy asks breathlessly.

"Jumping into the pool."

"What the- when did you do that?" Bellamy hisses.

"Couple days after you fell!" she bites back. "Miller and Echo stopped me from jumping right after you, but I snuck away from camp to find you-"

"Clarke," he says again, breathless with relief. "It really is you-"

"We've established that, Bellamy! We have to get out of here!"

Clarke stops, and tilts her head to the side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't know if you're the real one or not!" Bellamy snaps, pulling her up into a sitting position.

"The real one-"

Clarke's eyes widen. "There's another me, isn't there?"

Bellamy nods.

"Where is she?" Clarke asks, her hands grabbing his arms.

"You're her, Clarke. It's like she went from being that Clarke to you."

Clarke shakes her head. "That's impossible, Bellamy. Another version of me?"

"Is possible," Bellamy implores. 

"Fuck," Clarke murmurs. "We have to go-"

She freezes, and her eyes widen even more.

"Bellamy?" she asks, and she sounds so scared. "I can't- I can't see you anymore- I can't see anymore-!"

"Clarke, Clarke," Bellamy urges, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Do you feel me?"

"Not anymore!" she gasps. "Bellamy, something's happening-"

And then she yanks him close with a surprising amount of strength, pressing her lips to his ear. 

"Find me," she says, and then she falls against him, dead weight in arms, completely unconscious.

He's not sure what just happened, but maybe, just maybe, he thinks he knows.

Maybe for a moment, Clarke on the other side appeared to him.

How or why, he doesn't know.

Clarke starts stirring in his arms.

Her eyes open, and then she sits up.

_Who are you now?_

"What's the last thing you remember?" Bellamy asks.

"Jaha sedating me," she snaps, and Bellamy's heart sinks. "Where is that son of a bitch?"

Of course.

It's back to the other Clarke.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," Bellamy whispers, his voice alarmingly steady even after what he thinks may have been an actual encounter with his Clarke. "I'm gonna get you out, okay?"

"Bellamy-" Clarke says.

"Don't worry," he replies, and it all starts to come together in his head, shining through the disarray his mind was thrown into after talking to the real Clarke. "I have a plan."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how bad was it on a scale of one to becho being a thing for a whole season


	12. We Will Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy escape, but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this is getting boring

His plan is not very well thought out, but it seems to be working better for Bellamy than he could’ve imagined.

Clarke watched in stoic silence when he emptied out every drawer in that room, and smiled a little when he found a full syringe.

“You sure you know what that thing’ll do?” she asks him now, giving her handcuffs a little shake.

“No,” Bellamy says, raising an eyebrow. “When did I even say that?”

“You didn’t.”

He has the urge to kiss her again, but turns away before he can act on it.

_No, Bellamy._

The voice in his head sounds oddly like Echo.

Bellamy goes to crouch in front of Clarke.

"Bellamy," she murmurs, her eyes dark.

Bellamy leans forward and kisses her gently on the lips.

"Bellamy, I told you not to-"

"Clarke," Bellamy interrupts. "Just let me have this."

Regret, regret, regret, and of course it all disappears when it comes to Clarke.

She nods, and tilts her head to peck him on the lips.

"We shouldn't," she murmurs.

"Doesn't mean we can't. Now stay calm."

The door bursts open.

"Mr. Blake," Jaha says, stepping into the room, followed by Abby Griffin. "Have you reached a decision?"

Clarke's jaw clenches, her eyes meeting Bellamy's in a silent question. Her whole body tenses when her mother approaches her.

"Yeah," Bellamy says, looking directly into Jaha's eyes. "Take her."

His hands are frantically making chopping motions at his sides without making it look conspicuous, and god, he hopes Clarke understands.

_She will._

She has to.

_Oh, god bless Clarke and her badass ninja skills._

Because just as Abby comes closer, there's a tremendous arc of limbs, and Clarke's mother staggers back, sporting a spectacular black eye.

"Jaha," she bites at him, and even with Bellamy half in a daze and Clarke's hands bound, Jaha and Abby are both lying in a heap on the floor.

"Please tell me you have something to do next," Clarke says, shaking her hands. Bellamy grabs a key from Jaha's pocket and unlocks the handcuffs, and Clarke rolls her wrists. "Thanks."

"Let's get out of here first," Bellamy murmurs. "And then I'll tell you the rest."

* * *

They walk with their smallest fingers laced between them, Clarke looking a little battered and bruised and earning herself some strange looks from travelers on the subway, but they're alive.

"They're gonna come after us," Clarke mutters. "Did you really think this through."

"I just saved your ass."

"Right back at you, Blake."

"So modest," he snaps, elbowing her in the gut. Clarke winces a little, but tries to pass it off as a small smile.

"Lux and Tenebris," Bellamy says after a long time. "Tenebris is under lockdown - they have a Speculo, a controlled one, apparently. That's what Jaha wanted me to find. That's my way home."

Clarke lets go of him, her eyes darkening.

"Clarke-?"

"You trust Jaha?" Clarke asks.

"He's been right so far. The messages and everything-"

"Okay, you two. You've got some explaining to do."

They both look up to see Russell, looking angrier than a wasp.

 _"Oh, shit,"_ Clarke moans next to him.

* * *

 

"-Irresponsible, and stupid! You could have been murdered, having a ball out there with two of Eligius's high priority traitors!"

Clarke leans against the wall of the station, glaring at a spot just above Russell's eyes.

Russell sighs, rubbing his temples, something Bellamy's seen Clarke do a million times.

No, Clarke isn't his daughter.

Not by blood.

"You can't continue your mission," Russell says, and Clarke's head snaps up. "Jaha has connections - your entire cover has been compromised in Second Dawn. You need to go underground for a while."

"That wasn't Jaha," Clarke grits out. "That was my  _mother-"_

"It doesn't fucking matter!" Russell hisses, and a few people shoot him dirty looks. He lowers his voice even more. "Go to the Cliffhouse, Clarke. Take Bellamy. I'll contact you when you're ready to move on with - whatever plan it is that you have."

Clarke pushes her hands through her hair. "Russell-"

"Clarke, please. You thought you were doing the right thing, and  _you were, you were,"_ Russell adds, noting Clarke's indignant expression, which doesn't soften with Russell's assurances. "But you have to take a break. You've been made, and there's a large mess left behind."

The tips of Clarke's ears are bright red.

"It's not your fault," Russell says, and he looks like he means it, but there's something else in his eyes.

"Let me help," Clarke says. 

"Your priority is Bellamy now."

Bellamy looks up.

"I like you, kid," Russell mutters, nodding to him. "Get him home as soon as you can, though."

Clarke swallows and nods, regaining some of her composure.

"Go," Russell says, and he disappears into the crowd.

"One day," Bellamy sighs. "I'm going to be as cool as him."

Clarke crosses her arms and glares. 

* * *

Like the safe house, the 'Cliffhouse' has whole walls of glass, and it's located right on a cliff, overlooking the ocean.

Clarke takes in the house as if she's never been in it before, and then she looks it like one would look at a place after emerging from a bunker.

"You okay?" Bellamy asks gruffly, putting his backpack recovered by Russell on the couch.

"I haven't been here since-"

Clarke clears her throat, turning her face away, and Bellamy realizes she's holding back tears. "Years ago," she mutters. 

Bellamy nods, unsure of what to say.

"Mom left this place to me," Clarke says. "Russell took it over and gave it back to me. This is what he means by underground."

"I know, Clarke."

Clarke shakes her head. "Let's go upstairs."

They go in silence. The house is small, but the glass and the empty spaces give off the illusion of space. They arrive at the single bedroom, and Bellamy sighs. They walk over to it, and Clarke literally collapses on it, her body parallel with how one actually lays on the bed. It's a large bed, and only her boots hang off the edge. Bellamy collapses as well from the other side, and they lay in silence, opposite to each other.

"It's my fault," Clarke says after a while.

"It's not, Clarke. You couldn't have known that it would all be so connected - your mother, your mission, me-"

"Yeah," Clarke says, staring straight up. "You." And then she turns her head to stare at him like he's a mostly complete puzzle missing a piece. "The only unknown variable..."

She trails off and turns her head up again.

"Hey," Bellamy murmurs. "It wasn't your fault. Whatever you've done - I know it's mattered. I know."

Clarke shrugs. "Sure. I still fucked up."

"That's on me, Griffin."

"It's not your fault you fell out of the sky," she says with a slight smile.

_It is, it is his fault. He fell, because he was stupid and reckless and-_

They lay in silence until he turns his head.

"You're cute when you're upside-down," he blurts.

Clarke turns. "So are you."

The kiss is a little messy since their heads are in opposite directions, but they make it work.

"You're afraid of being with people because of your job," he murmurs against her lips.

"Maybe," she murmurs back, her eyes still closed. "No attachments. The agency insists."

"And me?" he asks.

"I told you we shouldn't," Clarke replies.

Bellamy nudges his nose against hers. "I know you would stop me if you really wanted to. But you aren't. Why?"

"Bellamy," Clarke says gently. "I don't know any more than you do."

They fall asleep like that, not bothering to even change or move.

And Bellamy, of course, he dreams - he dreams of a dark tower and a tower bathed in light.

_Light and Dark._

_Light and Dark._

There is an answer somewhere, swimming in-

A silver pool.

No-

_Lux and Tenebris._

* * *

_Bellamy's world is in harsh tones of black and white, like the oldest, oldest movies on the Ark._

_"Come on," he murmurs to himself, pacing through the twisting hallways. "Come on."_

_"Do you know what you're looking for?" Clarke asks from behind him, and he relaxes a little. Clarke._

_The real Clarke, it seems, with her short hair._

_"No," he replies. "But there is an answer..."_

_Clarke comes to stand next to him. "Light and dark," she muses, and that's what she and Bellamy look like reflected in the smooth walls of the corridor, her standing in dark clothes and him in jeans and a light gray shirt._

_"Maybe that's your answer," Clarke murmurs. "Light and dark."_

_Lux and Tenebris._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooie spooky


	13. Now We Push Right Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy worries about the situation back home. Clarke plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i thought this would suck but you guys are so amazing thanks for all the feedback

"Time," she says, tapping the spines of all the books. "It's fine. Russell gave us time. We need a plan."

Bellamy nods, also searching through the books. "What's the title?" he asks after a long moment.

"Turres Lucem Ac Tenebras," Clarke replies.

"Towers of Light and Dark," Bellamy translates. "What is it with Latin in this place?"

"What is it with you knowing a shit ton of Latin?" she asks, then inhales. "Found it."

"I don't even know what you're expecting to find in there," Bellamy mutters.

"Something about a Speculo, obviously," Clarke says, rolling her eyes like it really is that obvious; which, it most certainly isn't.

"This book is huge," Bellamy mutters. "It's a needle in a haystack, Clarke. And we don't even know if the needle exists."

"We have to start somewhere," she implores, putting the book in his arms. "I'm gonna go make lunch."

"And leave me to read this?"

"Bellamy," Clarke says, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm kidding," he says with a slight smile, hoping it masks his apprehension. "Call if you need my help."

Clarke nods, and leaves.

Bellamy glares down at the cover. 

* * *

 **The startling reality is that it is not the only reality - each decision creates a reality where a different choice was made. Of course, this notion remained a theory until scientist Becca Pramheda was able to create an anomaly in space and time itself.** **Most have never thought to investigate Dr. Pramheda's discovery; although, she made claims to the scientific community that she was able to glimpse an alternate reality.**

**Her claim was not supported until NASA, the agency assigned to assess the discovery, sent a device into the anomaly, which has been described as resembling a pool of silvery liquid.**

 

> **"The words of truth (love) and illusion (fear) are like parallel universes; with every thought we make a choice which one to inhabit."**
> 
> **_Marianne Williamson_ **

**Williamson's statement turned out to be the basis of Pramheda's findings - choices, according to Pramheda and the other scientists dedicated to the research, dictated the manner of the parallel reality. This alludes to the fact that trillions upon trillions of alternate realities are in existence; trillions upon trillions of choices are made.**

**NASA's observations of the anomaly were never released - all records have strictly been kept within government agencies, and research has eventually been transferred to the Eligius Corporation.**

"Find anything?" Clarke asks, standing in the doorway. In Bellamy's haste to find information, he hasn't noticed the delicious smell drifting through the house or the woman watching him.

"Maybe," he says, pointing to the book, then rubbing his burning eyes.

"Your eyes," Clarke murmurs. "They okay?"

"It's fine," Bellamy lies, but in all honesty, he's been having trouble seeing things too far or too close.

"Come on," she concedes after a moment. "Let's eat." 

* * *

"It makes no sense, though," Clarke groans, glaring at the pages. "A choice - it's all just their philosophy. What choice could have possibly lead you here? What choice made your world?"

Bellamy shrugs, then realizes with a jolt that Clarke doesn't know she exists in real life, too.

What he hopes is real life.

"I don't know," he murmurs, because it is the safest answer he can think of.

Clarke gives him a look that makes him feel a bit like he's being x-rayed, so he looks back down at the book lying on the table.

"Lux and Tenebris are the government towers," Clarke says after a while. "If there's something about the Speculo in this book, it has to be related."

"Hmm," he nods in agreement, picking the book up and curling into one of the chairs in the small library.

Seriously. The house is small, but of course the extra bedroom is turned into a library.

"Bellamy," Clarke says, crouching in front of him. "You okay?"

He is by the loosest definition - he's not upset, really, but there are a lot of things tugging at the corners of his mind, an ominous sort of feeling. He's also trying to prepare himself for what to do when he gets home, and then he chides himself for thinking  _when_ and not  _if,_ and he chides himself for slowly letting himself fall for the notion that everything might just be easy.

"Yeah," he says simply. "I'm fine."

It is not a lie but it is not the truth, either, and Bellamy finds himself realizing that he's become used to telling the truth in this world.

* * *

They spend a long time at the books, but all Bellamy finds are pointless bits and pieces of information that only lead to more questions.

And Clarke's eyes are closing every ten minutes, and Bellamy doesn't miss the way her head starts to drift down towards her shoulder before her eyes snap open and return to the page as if nothing happened.

Clarke really doesn't sleep much unless she's with him, which simultaneously warms Bellamy and worries him.

He wonders vaguely what his Clarke is doing.

His, his, his. When did the real Clarke Griffin become  _his?_

_(we found each other in a cage)_

Blue eyes turn hazel, blonde hair turns brown, a frown morphs into a smirk.

_(I know that we'll find each other again)_

Bellamy stands abruptly.

Clarke is asleep.

Such an abrupt sense of grief and loss hits him that he actually stumbles a little, and Clarke's eyes open. He wants to apologize, tell her to go back to sleep and get some rest, but there's something in Clarke's eyes, pure, untamed panic.

He's seen this look once before, and he's in front of her in a second.

"Bellamy," Clarke says, the real one,  _the real one,_ reaching her hand out. "What will it be this time, Bellamy Blake?"

He doesn't understand what she's talking about, and there's a terrifying hollowness in her eyes when she looks at him. Yeah, Clarke's eyes have looked empty since the day after Jordan woke them up, but that was just sadness and anger and confusion. But it is nothing compared to Clarke right now.

"Clarke?" he asks, reaching out and brushing her hair away from her face. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes narrow a little, observing him, trying to put him together.

_Trauma._

The word jumps out of him when he looks into Clarke's eyes.

"Nothing," she says suddenly, and her eyes flutter closed.

He wonders what happened to her. 

* * *

Clarke - Other Clarke, doesn't wake up after the episode with the real one, so Bellamy just strokes her cheek with the pad of his thumb for a long time before he goes back to his couch, opening the book again.

Maybe it's just the sense of helplessness that's getting to him, sitting and doing nothing when he knows exactly what he needs to do. It is a sudden development, his agitation and his tendency to confine himself to books and books that may just hold answers to a question he does not even know.

Clarke's face haunts him at night - the fleeting glimpse of his Clarke.

He's lying on the couch in their bedroom one night, and Clarke walks in, her eyes blank.

"Clarke?"

She barely even turns her head to him as she climbs under the blankets and turns away from him, her head tucked into her chest.

He stands, his footsteps light and silent, his movements slow and cautious as he gets into bed and wraps his arms around her. Some nights, most nights, really, despite the few (now strangely forgotten) kisses they shared, Bellamy sleeps on the couch and Clarke in the bed. 

Clarke's not crying but she's shaking, choking on dry sobs.

Bellamy knows not to ask her, so he settles for kissing her hair and stroking her arm until they both fall asleep, one he hopes is dreamless for Clarke but is unfortunately not so for himself.

* * *

_"Big brother."_

_His sister's hair is as dark as his now._

_"Octavia," he says tersely._

_"Will you ever forgive me?" she asks, crossing her arms._

_Bellamy wishes he had an answer, but no, he really fucking doesn't._

_"Will you ever forgive Echo?" he asks after a moment._

_Octavia's eyes darken with anger. "It's not the same and you know that."  
_

_"I'm your family. Echo's my family. It is the same."_

_The words taste bitter and oddly wrong in his mouth, but he ignores that._

_"I always knew you were a forgiving person, Bell," Octavia says, almost sadly, but in that moment, she sounds more like the girl he used to know, the girl he raised, than ever. "Just never thought you'd forgive someone who would use your forgiveness to get her way."_

_Bellamy doesn't know what she's talking about - her words strike a chord of fear in him._

_"Echo isn't that person anymore," he says._

_"Oh, big brother," Octavia says, retreating into the shadows. "You aren't even here to know that for sure."_

_"Echo doesn't use anyone," he implores. "It's not my fault you held a grudge for so long."_

_"Clarke's gone, you know?" Octavia snaps. "And Echo used that and your relationship with you to turn the whole camp against Clarke." Octavia steps back into the light, closer to him. "Bell, I know she went after you. But after the incident, no one believes it."_

_"What incident?" he asks._

_A look of guilt crosses her face, and she reminds him so much of when she was younger..._

_"What incident, Octavia?"_

_Octavia opens her mouth, and the world spins away._

* * *

He wakes with a slight jolt, his arm still banded around Clarke, her breathing slow and steady.

Incident.

He shakes his head, chin sailing through the mess of Clarke's hair, which actually became really messy when she slept. 

_(it was cute.)_

It's just a dream. There's no way any of that could be real, any of what Octavia claimed. 

Just a dream.

Just a dream.

He repeats the words in his head until he falls asleep again. 

* * *

_Clarke glares at the wall, sitting on her cot with her knees tucked up to her chest. Faint streaks of red are still visible in the hair that now brushes her shoulders, and there are fresh cuts all over her arms. When Bellamy steps closer, he sees that her arms are littered with pale white lines of past scars, under the new layer of lines of blood._

_And then he hears it._

_taptaptaptaptap_

_Fingers being drummed on a table, he notices. Who's hand it is, he cannot see. He's frozen, and he just watches a pale pinky, ring finger, middle finger, index finger, and thumb hit a startlingly white table in rapid succession, over and over._

_No one speaks. Not even him. He just stands where he is, watching Clarke, listening to that sound._

_It feels like hours, and the man keeps on tapping._

_"Clarke?" he asks finally, or, he tries, but when he opens his mouth and shapes the word, not a single sound comes out._

_Her eyes close, and Bellamy sees her tightly clenched fist open to reveal two brightly colored pills, obscenely bright, like candy._

_"Ms. Griffin?" a strangely and vaguely familiar voice asks._

_Clarke's arms shake as she reaches over for the glass of water on the floor next to her bed, but the water doesn't spill. She stares at the pills, and then into the water._

_"Clarke."_

_She looks up at the sound of her name coming from the unknown man's lips._

_Then back down, swallowing as if she's steeling herself to do something._

_Bright blue pill first. It's almost the same color as her eyes._

_Deep orange next. It's the color of their radiation suits before Praimfaya, at least before Clarke had to change hers._

_Both are swallowed, and Clarke carefully sets the water back down._

_Bellamy longs to run to her, but he can't._

_She closes her eyes again, and slowly lowers herself onto the pillow._

_For several long moments, she's just muttering in her sleep. And then her hands - her entire body - clenches._

_And that's when the screaming starts, and Bellamy starts to scream, too, even if he can't hear it._

And he wakes up yelling, Clarke's hands cupping his face and her worried face hovering over his, with the sound of drumming fingertips echoing cacophonously in his ears.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i aim to convert my personal anxiety and existential crisis into Bellamy Blake's mind you're welcome  
> it's 4:30 in the morning


	14. To Find Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy tries to rid himself of his apprehension and sees that his feelings start to get in the way of his desire to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spicy chapter don't @ me

She holds him like he's a child, cradling his head to her chest and murmuring into his hair.

"Bellamy," she says. "You're here. You're here."

He tries to stop shaking and relaxes against Clarke.

"Breathe with me," Clarke commands. "In and out, Bellamy. Bellamy!"

"In and out," he murmurs, trying to follow her movements. 

Clarke runs her hands through his hair, eventually stopping his shaky breaths and eliciting a few sad mewls spilling from his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy," she says against his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"It's not you," he says, but - it is her. Just not her.

He feels a headache coming on at the thought.

"Sorry I woke you," he murmurs, his lips brushing the curve of her jaw when he tilts his head up. "Just go back to sleep."

"It's okay," she says. "You try to sleep. I'll go-"

"It's like, four in the morning," he says, glaring at a clock in the room. 

"I can start days that early," Clarke says with a soft smile, trying to climb out of bed, but Bellamy tentatively wraps his arm around her waist.

"Clarke," he chokes out, and he hates how small and sad he sounds, how childishly broken he is. "Don't leave - don't leave me."

Clarke turns her head to him, a sad look in her eyes.

"Please," he murmurs.

Clarke nods, her body fitting to his again, and Bellamy lets himself relax again.

And though he sinks into a dreamless sleep, the odd nagging feeling in his gut does not leave him. 

* * *

He wakes just a few hours later, his head pounding and occasional tremors shooting through his spine. Clarke is gone; he hears her walking around downstairs.

He sits up and shoves the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying desperately to rid himself of this awful feeling, this sudden wave of _wrongness._

"Bellamy?" Clarke says, gently pushing the door open. 

"Hey," he murmurs, walking over to the bathroom. "I'll be right down."

"Bellamy," she says again, more insistently. "Are you okay?"

He smiles at her. "I'm okay."

She raises an eyebrow, and Bellamy sighs. "Really, Clarke," he implores. "I'm okay. I swear."

Another half-truth.

He knows Clarke will catch it, but he also knows Clarke will not push him. And of course, she smiles back at him and quietly exits the room.

He hopes the water splashing down onto his body from his shower will wash this feeling away but it doesn't, it doesn't,  _it doesn't._

* * *

"Why is Tenebris under lockdown?" Bellamy asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. Clarke shrugs, hopping up onto another counter while staring intently at a sleek, silver tablet. They've been looking through news and books all day, but at some point, that was more to entertain themselves than to actually find information. Bellamy supposes the captivity is getting to them a little.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," she murmurs under her breath, fingers tapping and sliding. "Going through the news..."

Bellamy nods, going over to stand next to her. She's reading terrifyingly fast, scrolling through the articles faster than Bellamy can read them.

"Ah, okay," she murmurs, stopping. "Wait, what the fuck?"

"What is it?" he asks immediately, taking the tablet from her hands.

"See for yourself, apparently. Honestly. Pretty boys just snatching things out of your hands..."

**T E N E B R I S  T O W E R  L O C K D O W N**

> **The Tenebris tower, a half of the two main goverment buildings and housing the governmental science department, was recently put under lockdown and assumed to be a quarantined area. According to the representatives who made it out of the building before lockdown commenced, there was some sort of medical outbreak in the lab.**

"That isn't what I was expecting," Bellamy says quietly. "But okay."

"They could be covering for something," Clarke says, tapping his temple. "Medical outbreak's basically been eradicated completely in today's age. And even so, it's no reason to lock down the whole building."

He nods. "Think your buddy Raven Reyes could find anything?"

"Raven's taken a break. Coincidentally at the same time as Murphy," Clarke says, a teasing edge in her voice meant for someone who isn't even there.

Bellamy smiles a bit to himself. "So naturally, we have to break in and do this shit ourselves."

"Mhm."

Bellamy sighs dramatically, leaning his head so far back it hits a cabinet. "Always gotta do it ourselves."

"You may be returning home," Clarke says impassively, an unreadable look on her face. "You should be happy about that. The wait shouldn't be too long - not too long before we can go."

Bellamy's eyes slide over to her, while she takes the tablet back, careful not to touch his hands.

"Clarke," he says, his fingers curling around hers. She looks at him in that surprised, vulnerable way, the same way she did when he pried a bloody screw from her hands after Bellamy had shoved it through Lincoln's hand.

"You're welcome," she says before he even gets a word out.

"Am I that predictable?" he huffs.

"Not really," Clarke mutters under her breath.

Bellamy moves to stand in between her legs, and even with her sitting on the countertop, they're about the same height.

"You're in my world, too," he admits quietly, his head bowed.

Clarke grabs his face in her hands. "What did you just say?"

"I said you were-"

"I heard you the first time," Clarke interrupts, her eyes narrowing. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It's complicated, Clarke."

Clarke looks at him for a long time, then something settles over her eyes, a realization, a dawning sadness. Pity, maybe.

"Me," she breathes. "Did you love me?"

Did Bellamy Blake love Clarke Griffin?

"I do," he breathes. "I do."

"You left her," Clarke murmurs. "You left her to die."

"I should've waited," he says, tears burning his eyes. "I should've-"

"No," Clarke says, her thumbs catching the burning trails of saltwater that drip from his eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

Bellamy looks into her eyes.

"It must've been hard," Clarke says, sounding so sincerely apologetic that Bellamy feels guilty about making her feel this way. "Seeing me and remembering her."

"She's alive," Bellamy says tersely. "It's just that she hates me."

"I don't think any Clarke Griffin could ever hate any Bellamy Blake," Clarke murmurs gently, her thumbs still brushing his cheekbones. "I'm not her - well, I am, but - I think she's just hurting. And afraid to tell you. It sounds like she's been through a lot."

_We've been through a lot together, you and I._

Bellamy leans forward and presses his lips against hers, and though Clarke kisses him back, she pushes him away after a few seconds. _  
_

"Bellamy," she murmurs. "Don't use me because you feel bad about her."

"I'm not," he says quietly. "I'm not using you."

"Then what?" she asks. "What are you doing?"

"You are Clarke Griffin," he says suddenly. "You are funny and persistent and brave and hopeful and everything that every Clarke Griffin is."

Clarke raises an eyebrow.

"I loved her," Bellamy murmurs. "But I love you, too."

"You make no sense, you know?" Clarke says, looking a little teary herself.

"I know," he says sheepishly. "I don't know how to tell you that I'm not using you. I swear, Clarke - I'm not. I just - I want you. I need you."

Clarke stares, and then she crashes her lips against his, and it's pure. untethered pain and bliss and freedom all at the same time. She lets her legs wrap around his waist and she lets him carry her upstairs and into their room. Clarke eventually slides out of grasp, standing toe to toe with him.

"Bellamy, I - you'll be gone-"

She's silenced when Bellamy's fingers slowly open the top button of her shirt, then the one under, and the one under that.

"Tell me to stop," he breathes, another button coming undone, and now, he looks into her eyes. "Tell me you don't think I should do this." Another button. "Tell me I shouldn't let myself do this-" Another. "Tell me  _you_ shouldn't let this happen."

He's breathless as he realizes the magnitude of the situation, realizes how bad of an idea this is, realizes that he's not even thinking straight at all.

In a distant corner of his mind, the perpetual, ominous feeling seems to latch onto his thoughts for a second before slithering away into the darkness.

Bellamy undoes her last button so her shirt now hangs open, and Clarke stands in stoic silence, still so, so close to him.

"Tell me to stop," Bellamy practically begs her. "And I swear, I will."

"No," she declares, so faintly, Bellamy almost can't hear her. "Don't."

And then they're kissing again, and again, and again, Clarke's back against the wall and her arms tight around his waist.

"Bellamy," she breathes against his lips, a plea, a prayer, a command, a question, a song. She sighs softly when his lips find the curve of her jaw and juncture between her neck and shoulder, and her hips rock against him almost involuntarily.

He pauses in his movements, waiting for her to decide, here and now, what she wants.

Clarke pushes him gently, walking and walking until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls, Clarke falling with him. More like on top of him.

There's a bar of moonlight cast across her face, bathing her in a silvery glow.

He murmurs her name, silently asking her to do something. Clarke leans down and gives him a few nipping kisses, eventually moving onto his cheek and the line of his jaw. And meanwhile, she rolls her hips, so slowly and taking so long to do it that Bellamy feels as if he's in actual danger of spontaneously combusting. With every kiss she gives him, she shifts again, and the room is silent except for their labored breathing. And she just goes on forever, her movements quickening and her kisses increasing in their fiery intensity.

"Please just get on with it," Bellamy half laughs, half pleads.

"So bossy," Clarke murmurs, planting a chaste kiss against his heart.

_I swear to everything that is holy-_

He can't take it anymore; Bellamy's self-control just snaps, and suddenly they're rolling on the bed, Clarke's shirt being shoved off her shoulders and her bra tossed into some unknown location. Bellamy's own shirt goes, too, and after that they kiss desperately for a moment. Bellamy tries to memorize her, stores all those sounds she's making in his head, tries to burn the feel of her body into his brain. His lips travel from her mouth to her neck, to her collarbones, and over the curves and hills of her torso, feeling and wanting and  _needing_ it all. Clarke squirms impatiently under him.

"Bellamy..." she warns.

"I think you're the bossy one," he chuckles against her hip. "Bossy and impatient."

Clarke's hands clench around the blankets.

"Bellamy," she says again, more gently, more insistently, an unspoken please hanging between them.

And everything fades away except them, Clarke gasping a little against his jaw when he enters her, so careful not to hurt her. She says his name again and again with every shift of their bodies, and she's pushed over the edge just a second before Bellamy is, and still, they never let go of each other as the world explodes behind their eyes. Bellamy's hands slide up the underside of Clarke's arm and grab her hand, holding it to the pillow above her.

"Kiss me," Clarke commands when she can breathe again, and Bellamy does, over and over and over.

Release crashes into them like waves, many times as the day slowly bleeds into night, and they dance and dance, merge with each other until neither knows where Bellamy ends and Clarke begins.

They lie in bed, taking a break for a bit, chests heaving and smiles glued onto their faces.

"Hey," Clarke murmurs with a smile as she climbs onto him again.

"Hi," Bellamy replies, sighing slightly when Clarke brushes his hair away from his forehead, her expression heartbreakingly tender.

"I like you," she states. "In case you couldn't tell."

"I really couldn't tell," Bellamy smirks.

It doesn't even take ten seconds for him to be sliding into her and for his lips to latch onto her neck, one of Clarke's hands digging its nails into Bellamy's back and the other hand sliding into his hair, pushing and pulling to direct his lips.

 _So this is what it would've been like,_ Bellamy thinks vaguely as his whole body falters for a moment, having the reached the height of its pleasure.  _This is what it's like to be with Clarke._

It's freedom.

It's understanding, trust, and respect.

It's  _love._

He loves her and he tells her that later as he presses hot kisses to her stomach. He pauses just below her navel, looking up, wanting to see her when he tells her that he loves her.

"I know," she says, and for a moment, she looks sad. "I know."

Bellamy's lips go lower, and all coherent thought is gone from their minds for a very long time.

* * *

Jesus. He hasn't felt this tired from his... activities since the dropship days. 

Bellamy and Clarke went a few more rounds before their exhaustion pushed them to sleep - that was probably an hour ago. The clock reads half past one in the morning. Meanwhile, Clarke is curled around him, her chest pressed to his back, one arm under him and wrapping around his body, one arm over with her hand resting on Bellamy's heart. Her leg is thrown over his waist, securing him in place, and Bellamy smiles in the darkness. Her breathing is slow and steady, and his stupid brain reminds him of the sharp gasps of air she took when they-

_Go to sleep, Bellamy. Or throw yourself into a cold shower._

Bellamy smiles a little wider, moving his hand to place it directly over Clarke's.

"I love you," he breathes, whispering his secret to the darkness.

Clarke never said it back.

 _It's okay,_ Bellamy tells himself after a few long moments of contemplation.  _It's easier that way._

He closes his eyes.

He dreams of Echo, back in Mount Weather, her hazel eyes burning with accusation. He dreams and he dreams, but for once, he doesn't wake up until the morning. 

* * *

He wakes to Clarke sighing against his back - she must've just woken up.

"Morning," Bellamy drawls under his breath, brushing his fingers over her knuckles.

"Hi," Clarke says, and Bellamy feels her smile burning between his shoulder blades. "Thanks to you, I probably won't be able to walk straight."

She has the audacity to pretend to be indignant about it.

Bellamy rolls over and flicks her nose. "Yeah, well, my back is probably scarred for life now."

"Sorry," Clarke replies cheekily, not even sounding sorry at all.

Bellamy leans forward and kisses her on the tip of her nose. "I don't want to get out of this bed at all today."

"The feeling is mutual," she murmurs, planting a quick kiss on his cheekbone. Her hair is splayed on the pillow, blonde waves shining in the morning light. "But we should get up."

"It's not like we even have anything to do," Bellamy moans, burrowing his face into his own pillow. 

"Maybe we do," Clarke implores. "We should be ready, Russell might just tell us that we can go through with our plan."

Bellamy suddenly finds himself terrified by the prospect of returning home.

_I'll go one way or another. I prefer alive._

"Okay," he concedes finally, his fingers linking with Clarke's. "Okay."

She leans forward and kisses him, long and slow.

 _I could stay,_ Bellamy tells himself, his fingers weaving through Clarke's hair.  _I could stay and everything would be fine here._

Even when they stop kissing, Clarke's eyes stay closed as she savors the moment, and the locks of her hair still wound around Bellamy's hand look like sunlight slipping through his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i suck at this lmao


	15. Or Either Win What They Have Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy faces the now terrifying prospect of returning home for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeeeeeeesus this is a thick one

"I've come to the conclusion that I'm psychic," Clarke declares, coming to stand behind Bellamy's chair and fold her arms on top of his head.

"How so?" Bellamy asks.

"Russell sent me a message, said it was okay for me to go ahead with whatever I had planned. He even convinced Raven to get us into Tenebris Tower."

Bellamy fights his sudden wave of nausea. "How'd he know about that?"

"I told him at the beginning of our exile. Communication on an encrypted channel."

"That's great," Bellamy says, surprised by how steady his voice is. He hopes Clarke won't see through his facade.

He hears her sigh slightly behind him. "I'll miss you."

God, what a fucking asshole he is. He didn't even think about how his leaving would affect this Clarke.

"I'm so sorry," he mutters. "I can't believe I slept with you days before I planned to leave-"

Clarke comes to stand next to him and tips his head up with a finger. She looks a little too bright, a little too sharp.

"I don't think it'll matter," she breathes, and she looks so sad when she says it.

"Why wouldn't it?" he asks.

"Because I don't think I'll be around after you leave. I just-"

Clarke sighs, stepping away, her hands combing through her hair. 

"I'm not real," she spits, her back facing Bellamy. "I'll just disappear when you leave."

"Clarke, no," Bellamy says immediately, standing up and walking over to her. "You're real. This is real-"

"They were pretty selective about how much of Becca's research would be shown in the articles," Clarke says quietly, her back stiff. "Parallel realities can exist without really being real. Just suddenly created to accommodate an anomaly. And the anomaly isn't the Speculo, Bellamy. It's you."

Bellamy steps back.

"You are real. And Clarke Griffin is real, too. But I'm not the real Clarke Griffin. And this whole world, this whole world that I've been in my whole life - all created in a billionth of a second just to shove you into some parallel reality. It was all luck, Bellamy. You could've even landed in a universe where you didn't leave Clarke Griffin to die. But you just happened to fall between the cracks and you ended up here. And when you go, I'll go, too."

"Clarke," he breathes.

"It doesn't matter," she murmurs. "I won't feel a thing."

"But this life is real to you, isn't it? You have twenty years worth of memories, Clarke."

"I know," Clarke murmurs. "But it's okay. After meeting you, I wouldn't want to live in a world without you. So I guess, in the end, I'll be glad to go."

Bellamy doesn't know how to respond to that. 

* * *

She's not even outwardly bitter or upset about the whole situation. Clarke acts like nothing's wrong and they just go about their business as usual, but whenever Bellamy prods her in the direction of talking about her conclusion, she becomes oddly closed off and immediately pushes the subject somewhere else.

"Okay," she says, tossing a gun to him. It's night now; they're about to go to Tenebris. "You keep this with you; make sure it's hidden. Raven has surveillance and weapons detectors down.

"What if it really is a bacterial outbreak or whatever it was?" Bellamy asks, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

"It isn't," Clarke replies, putting her own gun in the inside pocket of her jacket. "Raven went through their footage."

"So what  _is_ going on there then that caused a lockdown?" he asks, before finishing a glass of water.

"The building's empty except for guards," Clarke murmurs, her gaze fixated on a window as she thinks. "Everyone else probably got out through the underground connection between Lux and Tenebris. And this-" she says, holding up a small chip that looks horribly like the Flame, "is how we get in. Russell was able to secure a key to the Speculo location itself."

Bellamy nods, holding the door open for her. "If it's just guards then we shouldn't have too much to worry about," he says, and curses himself for admitting it out loud. 

"Hopefully," Clarke murmurs, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the car. She's as happy as usual, Bellamy supposes, but at the same time, it seems strained.

"Clarke..." he begins.

"We're not going to talk about it," she says. "We aren't."

"So you'll just ignore the fact that you aren't real?"

"I don't even know if it's a fact, Bellamy!" she snaps, turning her head to him.

"Watch the road," he replies.

Her hands tighten on the wheel, but she looks ahead again.

"It can't have been easy for you to realize that?" Bellamy says suddenly. "And you just want to pretend it doesn't matter?"

Her eyes flicker to him again. "Please, Bellamy. I really don't want to discuss this right now."

Bellamy sighs, turning his head and putting his head against the window.

Neither of them talk until they reach the tower. 

* * *

In the light of the setting sun, Bellamy and Clarke themselves look like the towers, reminding him of a dream so long ago. Clarke in her dark clothing, Bellamy in his lighter colors. 

"Ready?" he asks.

Clarke grabs the back of his neck and tugs Bellamy down to kiss him soundly on the mouth. "Ready," she replies.

"Great," Bellamy murmurs. "Let's go."

Clarke strides up the main door, which Bellamy expects to be locked, but she pushes it open without any resistance.

"Raven?" Bellamy asks, stepping past her and into the building.

"Who else?"

The wide reception desk is deserted, and the whole building rings with a deafening silence. Bellamy half expects alarms to start blaring and guards to come running towards them; he could never be sure in these types of situations. Clarke's eyes flick from side to side before she ties her hair up into a high ponytail and walks over to the elevator. Bellamy envies her ability to walk with such ease when there are so many things that could go wrong, then finds himself laughing slightly to himself. It's like Bellamy and Clarke's personalities from when they first landed on Earth have been reversed.

_"The only way to make sure they survive is if you use this, too," Clarke says, touching the side of his head with her index finger._

~~_(I got you for that I got you for that I got you for that)_ ~~

~~_(I had you for that)_ ~~

"Come on," Clarke commands, jerking her head towards the doors sliding open. "It's on the highest floor." Bellamy joins her in the elevator, and with a slight jerk, the elevator starts ascending, and the two of them stare at the numbers of floors changing, staring as children would. 

"What's the highest floor?" he asks.  _Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty._

"The hundred seventy-eighth floor is the highest," she answers. Silence falls upon them again, Bellamy's eyes still glued to the small screen in the corner.  _Thirty-two, thirty-three._

There's a monstrous screech when they pass the fifty-second level, a sound that makes Clarke's entire body tense and Bellamy shiver. 

The elevator does not stop.

A small smile tugs at Bellamy's lips when they reach the ninety-ninth floor.

On the hundredth floor, the elevator stops.

* * *

"What's happening?" he hisses, grabbing his gun.

"Nothing good," Clarke murmurs, her feet shifting into a defensive stance, her gun already up and in her hands.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing five men, four of them dressed in dark, thick, combative gear, and the other wearing a dark blazer and jeans. 

"I don't understand how you thought it was going to be that easy," the man in the coat says with a delicate sigh. "Surprisingly, you are the first to try and break in for the intentions that you have-"

Clarke lunges forward and punches him in the face, and one of the guards kick her in the gut, the impact of the blow causing her to stagger back and grab the side of the elevator. Bellamy steps forward and shoves the other guard away, who strangely makes no move to hurt him.

The elevator doors close behind him.

"You, I don't want to hurt you," the more casually dressed one says. "But Clarke Griffin. All the things I could list about you and your crimes."

"Who the fuck are you?" Bellamy snaps, and two of the guards roughly grab his arms and hold him back.

"Xander Creed," he replies, and Bellamy just then notices that he's holding Clarke's arms with bruising force.

"Let her go," Bellamy says, deadly calm.

"Yeah, yeah, the predictable boyfriend speech. Let her go or you'll snap my spinal cord in half, right?"

"No," Bellamy replies simply. "But I'm sure she will."

Clarke's leg comes up to kick Xander Creed, but his arm snaps out and grabs her leg. With a twist of his hand, Clarke crashes into the wall with a painful thud.

"Take her," Creed says quietly.

_The key._

Bellamy's eyes meet hers, and he can tell she thinks the same thing. Lying on the ground, it's easy for her to slide her hand into her jacket and then pop something into her mouth. It's a last resort, and they might just find it anyway.

But then Clarke shoots up to her feet and grabs Bellamy; her mouth collides with his in a heated, open-mouthed kiss, and then he feels the small chip being pushed gently into his mouth by Clarke's own tongue before she pulls back and is dragged away by two of the guards.

"The Speculo," Creed muses, watching Clarke being dragged away. She isn't even fighting anymore - she has to have a plan. She has to. "Always an object of great curiosity," he continues, turning his head to Bellamy. "I don't understand how you two fit, though."

He doesn't bother asking Bellamy anything; he just seems content with trying to figure it out on his own.

"You..." Xander says, stepping close to Bellamy. His fingers are being drummed on his leg - it sounds like the awful sound he heard in the dream about Clarke and the pills. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Fascinating observation," Bellamy spits. "I see no reason for you to keep me from going my way. I just want to go home."

"And the girl?" he asks.

"Expendable," Bellamy manages to say, surprised by how steady his voice is.

"Of course," Creed replies with a slight smile. "I'd forgotten that some smart people have remained in this world."

Bellamy swallows. "What do you want with us?"

"I just want to know why you're here. I wouldn't push it if I were you. I know, for a fact, really, that it is very possible to die in a universe that isn't yours. And then I'll arrest Clarke."

A loud, resounding bang echoes down the hallway, and the other guards fall, bullets going clean through the space between their eyes.

"So arrest me," Clarke says, standing in the hallway, her gun aimed at Creed's head.

"Ah," Creed says, still in that awful, quiet voice of his. "You should come with me, Bellamy."

Creed presses a button embedded by the elevator door, and a wall rises between them and Clarke. Bellamy can hear the sound of a bullet hitting the wall, he can watch Clarke disappear behind a sheet of black.

Bellamy tries to get his breathing under control. "Where are you taking me?"

"Where you wanted to go," Creed replies. "Gotta start somewhere, don't we?"

* * *

Bellamy drags Creed out of the elevator, not caring if he's bruising his infuriating face as it slams against the door. Bellamy's knuckles ache from accidentally hitting a wall when Creed dodged one of his punches, but the pain is overshadowed by his slight pride at knocking him out anyway.

Bellamy drops the chip back into his palm, which had been tucked under his tongue the whole time. Wiping it on the sleeve of his jacket, he peers down the hall, eyes sliding past the endless rows of sleek, silver doors.

He wishes Clarke was here, but she must be lost in the twisting, dark building.

_Well, what are you really waiting for, then?_

His footsteps are monstrously loud in the silent hallway. There should be guards here, shouldn't there? It's the highest floor, it's  _the_ floor.

The key is clutched tightly in his fist; he can feel it digging into his palm.

_Home._

It doesn't feel right to be leaving without Clarke, and oh, god, he's worried, because what if someone got her and she'll never make it back and Bellamy will never go home-

_Another elevator?_

Bellamy starts to run, skidding down the halls, looking for another set of doors similar to the one he just got out of. There's no way there's only one elevator on the floor - unless this was more of a dangerous floor than he thought.

He finds the elevator, but there's not a single button, indicating that it will go down, or that it will move at all.

There's a slight indent in the wall just to the left of it, just the size of the key-chip in Bellamy's hand.

He sighs a little, and is about to press the chip into the indent when he pauses.

There are voices - Octavia's, Mom's, Clarke's, Echo's, Kane's.

He can't hear what they're saying, but his feet start to carry him towards the direction of the sound.

 _Big brother, responsibility, rules, trust, survival -_ all the words get mixed in his head, but Bellamy doesn't stop He finds himself at the end of a hallway, facing a door different from the rest.

_This is it. It has to be._

An indent identical to the one near the elevator is in the door, and there's no knob or bar or any visible way to open it. Bellamy holds the key up for a second time, and he pushes it into its place.

The door opens, and for a moment, there's only darkness. But the more he looks, he can vaguely make out a darkened hallway, ending in yet another closed door. As he watches, the corridor lights flicker on one by one, casting a deathly white glow through the doorframe. 

He's about to step right into it when a hand grabs the back of his jacket and yanks him back.

* * *

"Oh, you do  _not_ want to go there. Okay?" Clarke heaves, dragging him away from the door. Bellamy wrestles out of her grasp, and pauses when he sees the blood coating one side of her face.

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" he asks.

"Guards, guards, guards, and more  _fucking_ guards. Crawling through the whole place like fuckin' bees. Where the fuck is that Creed guy?"

"Calm down," Bellamy says gently, touching the bloodied side of her face carefully. "He's out cold."

"Your doing, Blake?"

"Who else would it be?"

Clarke looks like she almost smiles, but her eyes dart past him and to the bright corridor, her face twisting with some emotion Bellamy can't quite place.

"Why'd you stop me?" he asks, turning his head to where she looks.

"Guns," she says simply. "The whole place is overloaded with all kinds of sensors. It'll all go off if you even poke your head through the door, Bellamy."

"Great," he snaps. "So there's nothing we can do."

"There is something we can do," she says quietly. 

"Like what? And how do you know all this?" Bellamy hisses.

"Raven."

Bellamy doesn't miss how she avoids the other question.

"What else can be done, Clarke?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"Raven couldn't disable the security system completely," Clarke begins, "but she could delete a few pieces of the response program. So, all the ammunition will be wasted on one person going."

"We're going together, though," Bellamy counters.

"No, Bellamy," she says. "We're not."

He is silent as the thought washes over him.

"No," he concludes. "We could throw something across, trigger the motion sensors-"

"The sensors only respond to human activity," Clarke implores. "Heat signatures and the like."

"Creed," Bellamy implores. "We'll make him go-"

"He'll resist and we'll waste too much time. Apparently, this Speculo has a certain window of time where you can choose where to go. We're nearing the end of that window, Bellamy."

"How did you-"

"Raven again."

"No," he breathes. "We'll wait for another window, we'll give Raven time to figure it out-"

"After the scene we caused downstairs, I don't think we can just leave," she replies with a sad little smile.

"Clarke, I  _swear-"_

"It'll be me," she murmurs. "I'll bear it so you won't have to."

He feels sick - he's paralyzed with fear.

"You have to be quiet," Clarke continues, putting her gun down on the floor between their feet. "Soundwave sensors are fully operational. If you're not quiet, those guns will find you. Okay?"

"Clarke," he chokes out, grabbing her arm.

She doesn't even seem remotely bothered by what she's about to do, not even a little bit.

In her eyes, all Bellamy sees is resignation bordering grim determination.

"You're not doing this," he snaps, grabbing her arms and pulling her close. "You aren't-"

"I love you," she whispers into his chest. "And it's real enough for me."

Bellamy's about to say something when her whole body goes rigid in his arms.

"Clarke?" he asks. "Clarke, are you-?"

A shadow passes over her eyes.

"Bellamy," she says. "Holy shit. Bellamy? Where are you?"

"I..." he starts. "Clarke, you can't be here."

_Very possible to die in a universe that isn't yours._

Clarke presses her hands to the sides of her head, her face contorting in pain. And then she relaxes for a moment, sighing. "Sorry, Blake, got a little bit of a headache."

The two Clarkes are interlaced, switching and screaming for control.

"Clarke, you can't..."

She leans forward and kisses him, sweetly and gently, before pulling away.

"You might not want to see," she mumbles, drawing circles in the air in front of her eyes. And then; "Stay quiet, Bellamy," she warns. "You can't make a sound."

And then she's gone.

For a moment, Bellamy watches her, watches her walk down the hallway with all the poised grace of a tiger ready to attack, and then she turns back to him.

Nothing happens.

And then something in her eyes shifts-

Oh, god, he can't scream. He can't do anything at all.

He watches the real Clarke wake up.

Bellamy's name forms on her lips and then Bellamy sighs, thinking it's going to be okay, that they'll both make it home.

One shot.

Clarke pauses.

And then blood.

So much of it.

Blooming on her shirt, right in her gut.

And still she doesn’t fall; no, she takes another step.

And then the awful popping sound, and it’s just one bullet after another, coming from every possible surface of the corridor except the floor.

Now she falls.

Her hand lifts just a little, a warning, telling him not to go yet. Or maybe she is begging him to come get her.

Clarke moves her leg, and the bullets keep on coming, and she receives none of them, lying on the ground, but the damage is done.

_Very possible to die in a universe that isn't yours._

He tastes blood; he just realizes that he's shoved his fist into his mouth and bitten down to keep any sound from escaping.

And he's  _shaking._

He's gasping as quietly as he can against his fingers.

The bullets stop after several, horrible moments. 

And then he stands.

_very_

_possible_

_to_

_die_

_in_

_a_

_universe_

_that_

_isn't_

_yours._

He withdraws his fist from his mouth, feeling rivulets of blood band around his fingers and arm like a bracelet.

> **_very_ (adv.) in a high degree**

He's moving too slow and too fast.

> **_possible_ (adj.) able to be done; within the power or capacity of someone or something**

He doesn't reach her body fast enough.

> **_to_ (prep.) in various phrases indicating how something is related to something else**

He gets there too early.

> **_die_ (verb) be killed for (a cause)**

Her eyes are open, and god, he can't tell who it is.

> **_in_ (prep.) expressing motion with the result that something ends up within or surrounded by something else**

Which Clarke?

> **_a_ (determiner) used when referring to someone or something for the first time in a text or conversation**

His blood drips from his hands, mixing with hers.

> **_universe_ (noun) all existing matter and space considered as a whole; the cosmos. The universe is believed to be at least 10 billion light years in diameter and contains a vast number of galaxies; it has been expanding since its creation in the Big Bang about 13 billion years ago**

Her mouth is open to say something. She's dead before the word even forms on her lips.

> **_that_ (pronoun) used instead of “which,” “who,” “whom,” or “when” to introduce a defining or restrictive clause, especially one essential to identification**

_Move,_ a voice in his head says.

> **_isn't_ (contraction) is not**

_Move._ The voice is insistent.

> **_yours._ (pronoun) used to refer to a thing or things belonging to or associated with the person or people that the speaker is addressing**

So he moves. 

* * *

Bellamy Blake is a machine.

He gets bruised and bloodied by the guard standing pensively in front of the silver liquid, but when it comes down to it, he does not hesitate to pull the trigger.

There's a gash in his gut - he doesn't even think about it.

Bellamy Blake stumbles to the edge of the pool.

It seems to be mocking him, taunting him.

He doesn't even think about it.

~~_(Who was it who was it who was it WHICH ONE WAS IT)_ ~~

He doesn't think at all.

He stares deeper into the blanket of silver.

 _Where do you want to go?_ It seems to ask him.

 _Home,_ Bellamy thinks, and then he collapses into it, headfirst, and his consciousness starts to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> math is the worst sometimes breathe if you agree  
> comments and kudos are w e l c o m e


	16. We Know Now We Won't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's mental state worsens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh*

Raven and Murphy are standing at the edge of the camp when he drags himself towards it, knuckles bleeding and bruises covering most of his body.

Murphy starts yelling his head off; Raven just stares for a moment before she rushes over to Bellamy before he falls.

“Echo!” Murphy shrieks. “Bellamy’s here!”

“Hey, hey, Bellamy,” Raven says gently, supporting as she guides him into the haphazard assortment of tents and cabins and half-built wooden structures. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Echo slams into him, checking him for injuries, wincing when she sees the splotches of black and blue blooming on his face.

_Echo._

Bellamy thinks of the blood burbling from Clarke’s mouth, and he tears himself out of Raven’s grip, choking on his sobs.

“Bellamy, what happened?” Echo asks, shaking Bellamy’s shoulders a little, and next thing Bellamy knows, he’s being dragged away by Murphy.

“Back off, Echo,” Bellamy hears Emori say. “We gotta get him to medical.”

Echo steps back, and Bellamy tries to control his breathing.

His head is spinning, his body is aching.

And though he can see ahead of him, all he really sees is-

~~_(who was it who was it who was it who was it)_ ~~

_(his blood mixes with hers)_

_(his body is tangled with hers)_

_(his mind belongs to hers)_

_(her eyes Bellamy do you remember her eyes)_

Bellamy faints, the darkness falling over him like a noose around his neck.

* * *

“Bellamy?”

He opens his eyes, wipes furiously at the sweat pressing his hair to his forehead. His fingers drift down to his beard and suddenly, he remembers Clarke’s lips tracing his jaw-

_(no no no no)_

“I want this off,” he murmurs, cutting across the meaningless tirade of whoever is sitting next to his bed, his fingers pressed to his jaw. He wants to scrub his skin until it’s raw, wipe away every single _fucking_ memory-

“-Been awake for a minute, Bell. I have to check-”

“O,” he breathes. “Shut up.”

“Bellamy, come on,” Octavia says.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, tears streaming down his face. “I’m fine-”

“Okay, Bellamy,” he hears Octavia reply, her own voice thick with some emotion he can’t place. “Get up.”

He does, and his legs shake violently when he puts his weight on them.

“Yo, Bell, take it easy,” Octavia says, handling him with the care he hasn’t seen in her since the dropship days. She guides him into a bathroom with lights so bright they make Bellamy’s head spin.

_Take it easy, Blake._

Octavia’s hands are gentle as they slowly rid his face of the mess it’s become since landing. She cuts his hair, too, cuts it short, the way he had it before Mom was floated.

If Clarke, the real Clarke, was there when the guns went off-

“Octavia,” he says urgently. “I’m gonna be sick-”

He barely makes it to the toilet before he’s retching into it, but nothing comes out. He tries for what seems like hours, but nothing’s _happening-_

“Bellamy,” Octavia urges after a long time, touching his shoulder. “You’re only making yourself feel worse.”

He stumbles back, collapsing at the sink, and he just starts to think, _if, if, if-_

“Bell,” Octavia says after a long moment. “What happened in there?"

_When?_

She was there- the real Clarke Griffin, she was there.

Who died?

“No,” he says suddenly. “I can’t-” His mutters of protest transitions into violent gasps of air.

“Hey,” Octavia says, grabbing his face. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

The unspoken _yet_ isn’t mentioned by either of them.

_Did you kill her, Bellamy?_

_Did she stand there and take a million fucking bullets while you sat and watched?_

Was she reaching her hand out to stop him or was she begging for him to come save her?

“Where are we?” he asks after a long moment.

“Worry about that later,” Octavia says, and he falls silent.

~~_(did you see her eyes Bellamy did you see them did you see that she was screaming and she didn’t even make a sound but you saw it in her eyes Bellamy oh how she SCREAMED)_ ~~

~~~~"Are we in camp?" he asks.

"No," Octavia replies softly. "We're in the city."

"What city?" he asks, his head snapping up.

"Bell," Octavia implores. "Not now."

She reminds him of Mom.

"Clarke," he says suddenly. "Where's Clarke?"

"You know what's weird?" Octavia asks. "I had a dream where I told you about it..."

Bellamy's eyes close as he remembers, remembers something about Octavia mentioning an incident...

"I know," he breathes, ever so quietly.

"It was actually you?" Octavia breathes, grabbing his shoulder.

He nods.

"Wow," she mutters. "Okay..."

"What was the incident?" he asks.

"Echo and Clarke got into a fight right in the middle of camp," she says. "Echo went on and on about how she left you to die, how it was her fault that everything happened, told her it was better for everyone if she'd just died in Praimfaya-"

"She said that to her?" Bellamy interrupts, rage cutting through his anxiety.

"Among other things," Octavia continues. "And then, things got - well, things got physical. And Clarke, who hadn't even tried to deny what Echo said, just let it happen. She was gone within the next night."

Bellamy hangs his head, pressing his hands against his tightly closed eyes.

"You should rest some more," Octavia whispers. She takes his arm and gently pulls him out of the bathroom and into what he now sees is a bedroom, a real one in what seems to be an actual house.

"Where  _are_ we, O?" he asks again.

"Eligius," Octavia says with a hint of wonder in her voice. "The Eligius leader didn't actually want to kill us all, it turns out. A ton of shit happened, we made agreements, learned about each other, became best friends and whatever. Our original Wonkru camp still stands at the place where we landed - that's where you showed up. But there's a neighborhood in the city for us. This is your own place."

"I was in camp just a while ago," Bellamy says. "How am I in the city now?"

"They used a plane, yeah, Bell, an actual  _plane,_ to take you here. They kept you in the hospital for a bit, and then took you back to the house."

"Why do I have a house again?" he asks, sitting down on the bed.

"I asked," she says simply.

"Octavia..."

"I can't make up for what I've done," Octavia says tersely, walking backwards towards the door. "But I can at least try. I still love someone who wishes I was dead."

"I didn't ever wish you were dead, O," Bellamy replies quietly. "Just the part of you that was killing you."

Octavia nods, looking sad.

"Clarke isn't back yet?" he asks.

"Bell," Octavia says gently, with the look of someone about to tell a child some horrible news. "She's uh, she didn't make it."

"What the fuck do you mean, she didn't make it? How can you know for sure? Did she come back?"

"She won't come back."

"How long have I been gone, Octavia?"

"Six months."

"And how long was Clarke gone, Octavia?"

"Five months."

"And did you guys just decide I died?" Bellamy snaps. "Or is that just for Clarke?"

"We went back to the place, Bell," Octavia says, her eyes glued to the ceiling. "We found her jacket there. Completely covered in blood. The blood was black, Bell. Nightblood. We don't know if she's dead for sure, but... she's not coming back.

"No," he says. "No. It's not - no."

Octavia shakes her head. "I'm sorry, big brother."

Bellamy's chest feels like it's being buried under boulders, and he can't  _fucking_ breathe.

"No," he says again, a plea, a whimper, a pathetic denial. He backs up against the headboard of the bed. "No."

But then - nightblood.

Was her blood black or red in the tower?

He can't remember.

He can't remember-

And when he tries, sometimes he sees black, sometimes he sees red.

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy," he hears Octavia say, but he can barely hear it, like she's saying it from the other end of a very long tunnel. He can barely feel Octavia's hand touching his shoulder.

"It's not true," he murmurs. "It's not, Octavia, you guys made a mistake-"

"Bell," she says patiently, "I know it's hard to believe."

"There's no evidence," he mumbles, his vision blurred with tears.

"There is, Bellamy," she replies. "And I know you just got her back and I'm so, so sorry-"

"No," he says, again and again and again. "She can't be dead."

Her face appears in his mind, a rare, genuine smile on her lips, making her eyes crinkle around the corners.

"Bellamy," Octavia says, so quietly, taking his hands within her own. 

"She's not gone, Octavia, she could be alive," he sniffles.

"Even Clarke isn't that lucky," Octavia mumbles, her fingers tracing Bellamy's palms.

"She can't just be gone!" he yells. "She can't-"

"We looked for her, and you, for months, Bell."

"Why isn't she coming back?" he asks.

Octavia nods, her eyes closed. "The pool, portal, whatever it was - it's gone. It went away right after you came back. So even if she is alive - she isn't coming back."

Bellamy's hands rise to his face to cover his mouth. A scream is lodged in his throat, cutting off his air, and soon he's gasping for breath behind his palms.

Octavia's fingers touch the scars left on his knuckles from when he bit them. "She's as good as dead, Bell. If she isn't already."

"Octavia," he breathes raggedly, and suddenly he's collapsing into her arms, sobbing into her hair. Octavia catches him and holds him tight, but he's still falling, falling and falling.

He used to be the one to catch Octavia, to hold her when she cried.

And as his little sister holds the shattered, fragmented pieces of him together, he can't help but remember a little girl, with piercing eyes and pretty dark hair that he used to braid whenever she asked him to, remembers the little girl yelling as she jumped from a bed,  _catch me, Bellamy, look, I'm flying, catch me-_

* * *

"Hey."

Echo stands in the doorway, her hair long and loose around her shoulders. There's more color in her cheeks, and a strange light in her eyes. He decides it's her happiness at his return.

"Hi," he murmurs.

Echo takes a seat at the edge of his bed, and touches the side of his face with her hand. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes," he lies, wondering when it became so easy to lie to her.

Echo surprisingly doesn't catch it. "Did Octavia tell you about Clarke?"

He considers telling her  _everything_ that Octavia told him, but then he doesn't.

A fresh wave of crushing nausea hits him, and he swallows.

"I'm sorry," Echo says with that unreadable way of hers, still stroking his face. "I can't imagine how hard it must be for you."

He tilts his head and nods; if he opens his mouth, he'll either scream or throw up or both.

"You just got her back," Echo continues.

He nods again. Bellamy can't help but feel like she's trying to pull something from him, a word, a reaction,  _something_ he can't place.

"I tried to stop her from going after you," Echo says quietly, her fingers moving away from his face to rest of the table on the side of his bed.

They start drumming.

"Stop it," Bellamy snaps.

She doesn't, at least not for a few more seconds.

"Please," he begs raggedly.

She stops.

"You can tell me what happened in there, Bellamy," Echo says. "You can talk to me."

"I don't want to talk at all right now," Bellamy murmurs.

Echo's hand drift to the hem of his shirt, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and a question in her eyes.

When she kisses him, Bellamy barely feels it.

His hands come to hold her, muscle memory taking over, erasing all the emotion beneath.

When he said he didn't want to talk, it's not what he had in mind, but he goes on anyway.

At least, for a moment, he will feel something else.

But even as he loses himself in Echo, he finds that he feels nothing at all.

* * *

He dreams.

He dreams and he dreams, he dreams that he and Clarke never went to the tower, he dreams that they stayed in bed all day.

He dreams that the guns don't go off and she walks to the end of the corridor and turns her head and smiles at him with that mischievous glint in her eye.

He dreams that he goes first and he takes the pain because it's very possible to die in a universe that isn't yours.

He dreams.

And he dreams.

And he dreams.

He dreams what would've happened if he'd made a different choice, or two, or three, or ten, or ten thousand.

What would've happened if he'd just begged her to stay at home just one more day.

If he'd known that it wasn't the real Clarke.

If he'd waited and found another day.

If he'd held her back, took her hand, stopped her.

If he'd-

If-

_If-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah  
> comments and reviews keep me alive so keep em coming


	17. A Life Worth Fighting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The others struggle to uncover the truth about what happened in Bellamy's alternate reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all your support guys and for making it this far

_Very_

_possible_

_to_

_die_

_in_

_a_

_universe_

_that_

_isn't_

_yours._

He wakes from his first nightmare since his return with a short gasp and a jolt of his body.

His legs are shaky as he walks around the house, and Emori even has to stop him from accidentally falling over and hitting his head on a cabinet as he heats up his dinner.

"Bellamy," she says with a small sigh and a glare at Echo, who got up when he almost fell but didn't move. "You sure you don't need to go back to bed? You're moving around too much for someone with broken ribs-"

"I'm fine."

That's the end of the debate.

His second nightmare has him up with a yell. Echo's lying next to him, and her eyes snap open in an instant, her hands coming up to wipe away his tears and her voice commanding him to breathe.

"I'm sorry," Echo murmurs to him, pulling him close. "I'm sorry."

 _It's your fault she's gone,_ Bellamy thinks for a moment, but sleep drags him back into its clutches before he can board that train of thought.

He wakes again the next morning with a cold sweat and quick, sharp intakes of air, but he cannot remember what he dreamed.

On the third night, it is the first night he is the only one in the house. The crushing silence hits him from all sides of the room, and it is long before he finally falls asleep.

(he dreams about Clarke lying in a pool of black blood.)

* * *

He screams himself awake. His voice is gone. 

Octavia comes sometime in the afternoon, sees him sitting at a desk, staring at nothing.

"Bellamy?" she asks. "I have some good news."

Noticing his lack of response, she walks over to him. "Bell...?"

He looks up at her.

"Can you talk?" she asks.

"I..." he trails off, then gasps, sharp pain shooting through his throat. The small word comes out scratchy and raw, and Octavia immediately shushes him.

"It's okay," she assures him, perching on the arm of his chair. "You're okay."

He doesn't even try to stop the tears from coming. 

* * *

Everyone comes to talk to him; everyone receives nothing in return.

"Please," Raven begs him one night. "Say something. Say  _anything,_ Bellamy. Please, just say something."

There are tears of anger and grief in her eyes and streaming down her face, and even though Bellamy suspects he can speak fine now, he doesn't.

He can't. He has nothing to say.

 _"Say something!"_ she yells at him, and dissolves into sobs.

All Bellamy can do is take her hand and squeeze it. 

* * *

Octavia, having gotten used to his silence, comes and finally delivers her good news.

"The pool came back. There's a chance Clarke could come back - there's a chance she's back already? See, Bellamy? She might be fine. We're searching the woods around that area, but we can't find her."

Bellamy clamps a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide.

"Bell?" Octavia asks, touching his free hand. "Are you okay?"

He removes his hand and looks up at her. Pure, untamed fear and dread is coursing through his veins right now.

"What's wrong? Do you know something?"

Bellamy sighs, leaning his head back against the headboard.

_"Bellamy."_

He shakes his head - too fast, too scared. Octavia sees through his lie immediately.

"Bellamy, if you know something you need to tell us," she implores. "Everything matters."

Her fingers are tapping against the table. Not the same way he'd heard it in his dreams, but it still has him grabbing her hand and holding her fingers tight.

Octavia looks up at him.

He shakes his head. 

* * *

He should be asleep, but he isn't. He's just too afraid of what he'll see.

He hasn't ever felt fear like this, dread like this, not even when he was a child. 

He hears voices downstairs. Echo and Octavia are somehow able to get into the house - now, he hears Murphy, Raven, Emori, Echo, and even Octavia arguing in hushed tones in his room.

"-If he knows it, he should say-" Echo snaps.

"Does he look like he's in any position to be talking?" Raven bites back.

"We don't even know what he went through in there-"

"But whatever it was, the answer is right there-"

"An answer he can't fucking give us right now?"

"We are  _not_ forcing it out of him!"

"What if it means saving Clarke's life?"

"Since when do you care more about Clarke than you care about Bellamy?"

"You can't just fucking use that against me, Echo?"

"Back off, John-"

_"Clarke is probably dead!"_

"So we just give up?"

"We won't have to if he just says one thing-"

"If you even try to force a single word out of my brother-"

"What are you going to do? Gonna go back to your Wonkru or enemy of Wonkru bullshit-"

"You just want her dead!"

A silence falls over the room.

"You turned the camp against her," Octavia continues angrily, and Bellamy opens one eye. In everyone's angered state, they don't notice. "You told them she was a traitor and that she was the reason Earth became unsurvivable."

Bellamy's hand clenches.

"Bellamy doesn't need to know," Echo snaps. "And look at me now - I'm  _trying_ to help find her; something we can't do unless we know where to start!"

"And it would be a shame if Bellamy found out, wouldn't it? What if he realized you were the reason Clarke left, and she may be dead because of you?" Octavia asks.

Bellamy already knows. He also knows that Octavia is just baiting Echo right now.

He inhales sharply; it's the only thing he can think of to let them know he's awake.

"Bellamy," Emori murmurs, walking over to his side immediately. "Hey."

He swallows and nods, and slowly pushes himself up and out of bed.

"Bell, Bell, be careful," Octavia murmurs, walking over and grabbing his arm.

"Do you know something about what happened to Clarke?" Echo asks gently, all her anger hidden away. "If you want to try and get her back, you should tell us."

It sounds like a threat, and Bellamy can't help but feel like Echo is asking only because he won't provide an answer.

"Echo," Octavia mutters.

"Make them leave," Bellamy whispers quietly in Octavia's ear. It's the first words he's spoken in days, but he still doesn't use his voice.

Echo leans back, looking slightly betrayed.

"Go," Octavia commands, every inch the queen she once was. "He wants you guys to leave."

Emori offers him a slight smile, Raven touches his shoulder, and Murphy nods at him, all of them exiting the room in silence. Echo walks over and plants a chaste kiss on his lips, so quick Bellamy doesn't even have time to respond to it.

He doesn't miss the way Octavia glares at her as Echo closes the door behind her.

"Bell?" his sister asks, turning to him. "What is it?"

Bellamy swallows, taking deep breaths. His head is spinning, and that feeling is coming back to him.

He holds his hand up, and runs into the bathroom. 

He waits and he waits, nausea crippling him from the inside out, and still nothing comes out of his mouth.

"Stop it," Octavia murmurs, pulling back and out of the bathroom. 

He gasps, letting his sister support him when she traps him in an embrace.

"Do you want to rest?" she asks.

Bellamy buries his nose in her hair as a response.

"I'll take that as a yes," Octavia mutters, and helps him back into bed. She runs her fingers over the top of his head, something Mom used to do to both of them. "One day," Octavia says gently. "You'll talk to me, right?"

Bellamy tries to give her a look that conveys his answer, and thankfully, she understands.

"Good," she says, smiling a rare smile. 

Even though it hurts his face and it's not entirely real, the corners of Bellamy's mouth go upward for just one second, one second that means the world. 

* * *

Madi is his next visitor.

 _Heda,_ he tries to say, but the word gets stuck in his throat. He just raises his hand in greeting.

"Hi," Madi murmurs. "Everyone else tells me you won't talk to anyone. It's okay. You don't have to talk to me, either."

Bellamy nods and tilts his head.

"You look like how Clarke always drew you. I like you better without the beard. No offense."

He waves his hand to indicate  _none taken._

"I think she'll come back," Madi says seriously, walking over to his bed. "She couldn't leave you again."

~~_(I left her)_ ~~

~~~~"Clarke's tough," Madi continues, with a hint of pride. "I'm sure she's fine."

He sighs when Madi takes his hand, observes it with the clinical gaze he's seen in Clarke so many times. All of a sudden, being near Madi is like shoving a million needles through his heart, because the more he notices, the more Bellamy sees Clarke in her, the small habits, the tendencies, the expressions,  _everything_ **.**

Ashamed as he is to admit it, he's relieved when Madi finally leaves a minute later. 

* * *

Raven storms in one dark morning, finds Bellamy sweating and grasping his pillows.

"I miss her, too," Raven says, getting into bed next to him. She lies on her back, glaring at the ceiling, and sometimes Bellamy sees tears falling from the corners of her eyes and disappearing into her hairline.

She's asleep after a while, her hand wrapped protectively around his wrist. Bellamy remembers her doing this after Praimfaya, all those awful nights his first few years on the Ring, climbing into his bed and holding onto his arm or his wrist or his shoulder or his hand until the morning, keeping him tethered to the insubstantial lifeline of the Ring.

When Raven sleeps, Bellamy finally lets himself cry the way he wanted to, full-bodied sobs, letting sadness take over his anxiety, just for a bit.

He curls up into a small ball, sobbing quietly into the pillow, tears dampening his face and his hair, and soon, he's not just crying for Clarke, but for Monty and Harper, for Mom, for all the lives he couldn't save, all the lives he's taken, for Lincoln, hell, even for Finn.

He cries for crystal blue eyes and a small smile and hair like threads of gold in the sunlight. 

Bellamy cries for talks of oxymorons, for princesses and knights, cries for all the years he's lost.

And finally, when he stops, he thinks he has run out of tears.

Of course, he just starts crying again after a few minutes.

Raven wakes up. 

Raven wipes his tears away and then her own, but it's no use; the tears always return. 

* * *

A month and a half after he wakes up back in his own world, Octavia walks in, holding something flat in her hands.

A notebook, and a pen clipped to the front cover.

"Tell me," Octavia says gently. "Tell me what happened to her."

He takes the book from her hands, takes the pen, too.

 _(_ **_99 Bellamy Blake_ **

**_1 ~~00~~ CLARKE GRIFFIN_**)

His hands are shaky; he doesn't know if he can write or not. Nevertheless, he opens the book, stares hard at the blank page.

**its my fault octavia. its all my fault.**

"It's not," Octavia stubbornly snaps. 

Bellamy glares at her.

He clicks the pen four times.

And then he tells her everything. 

* * *

Octavia herself is dabbing at her own eyes now. "And you don't know which one it was?"

Bellamy shakes his head. He feels oddly unstable after spilling all his thoughts onto one page, which is littered with angry scribbles and tears where he pressed the tip of the pen into it too hard.

"Oh, Bellamy," she says quietly. "Oh, god."

**don't talk to the others please octavia PLEASE**

Octavia plucks the pen out of his hands. "They need to know."

Bellamy runs his hand through his hair.

"I'll tell them," Octavia says gently. "You don't have to do anything."

Bellamy nods with a sigh.

That night, he dreams of writing her name down on that stupid fucking list over and over again, while listening to fingers being drummed against tables.

And he screams.

Again.

And again.

_And again._

* * *

They transfer him to the hospital three weeks later. He's torn eighteen of the forty-seven stitches on his body screaming and kicking, trying to wake himself from whatever awful dream he was having.

And then back home a week after that.

He stops even responding to Octavia.

He's sick, sick from dread.

It has him coughing and retching and shaking, stuck in a fever.

"Why is this happening?" Raven demands of Jackson one day, who's currently taking Bellamy's temperature.

"It's all mental, really," Jackson murmurs sadly. "Whatever's happening in his head is affecting his physical health."

He wants to apologize.

He wants to scream.

* * *

He hears her voice everywhere now.

Taunting him, screaming in pain, laughing, singing, humming, sobbing, and sometimes just talking.

Always her voice.

Sometimes the sounds she made just seconds before she died.

They take him back to camp.

"A change of scenery," Murphy explains, with a look on his face that shows that he clearly thinks this whole thing is utter and complete bullshit.

Bellamy develops a high fever four days after he arrives at the Wonkru camp, so they move into the transport ship, which is now always functioning as med-bay.

Abby Griffin is nowhere to be seen; he thanks every god he knows that she isn't.

All he'd see is Clarke if Abby were around. 

* * *

  _"Come on!" she yells, grabbing his arm. "Raven can't keep the system down forever!"_

_They run._

_Bullets fly behind them, but they're out of the way now._

_"That was easier than I thought it would be," Clarke mutters. "Let's go."_

_And he takes her hand._

_And he kisses her, hard._

_And he turns to the door._

_And he opens it._

_And-_

* * *

For a few days, he stops her hearing her entirely.

He doesn't hear anything at all.

Well, he hears it when people talk to him, but he doesn't listen.

Soon, Octavia and Echo are the only people that still come back for him.

Echo accidentally starts drumming her fingers on the bedside table again. Bellamy doesn't even stop her; he just lies there, trying not to scream.

* * *

It comes as a relief to him when he can finally conclude that he isn't hearing Clarke anymore. Bellamy always tried his very best to just try to maintain one last thread of sanity no matter would be thrown at him, and it seems now that he'll be able to do it.

"Hey, you," Murphy says, walking into his hospital room. "Still looking for Clarke."

Bellamy's fingers clench around the blankets, but he manages a nod of acknowledgement.

"We'll get her back," Murphy declares, incessantly optimistic. "The only person incapable of dying other than me is her. I'm sure she's okay."

Bellamy lets out a quiet hum of what he hopes sounds like agreement, causing Murphy's head to lift a little in amazement and hope.

He doesn't dream at all that night.

* * *

He has a fever the next day.

He throws up twice, and refuses to eat whatever food Octavia brings him.

His voice is gone from screaming,  _again._

She damn near breaks his bones when he gets out of the hospital, almost has a panic attack when he sees him wince from the pain of using his body after such a long time.

"Get back into bed," Octavia snaps.

Bellamy just puts a finger to the stubble on his cheek, the curls of his hair hanging over his eyes.

She sighs, and glares at him the entire time she helps him shave and cut his hair.

* * *

He's having a nightmare again.

Clarke - always Clarke these days.

Nightmares about Clarke were no stranger to him; he'd been having them since before she was taken by Mount Weather. Starting as her disappearing and leaving the camp in shreds, and soon turning into him forced to watch her die or be hurt.

Watch her walk away from him.

None of that could compare to an actual memory of seeing her die; whoever she was.

His eyes snap open the sound of screaming, Clarke, screaming his name, and he knows that he's not really awake at all.

It's just a dream.

The screaming gets closer and closer, mixing with Raven's and Octavia's voices. It makes Bellamy's head pound more than it already is, and he sits up, rubbing his temples. The door is violently shoved open, and-

If he was able to, he would scream, because he was drowning in sheer terror right now, could feel a cold sweat on his face. 

She looks horrible - blonde hair matted with dirt and blood, several dark stains on her shirt, and the entire left side of her face slick with fresh blood.

_(She's come to kill me she's come to make me pay for leaving her behind for not being able to save her she's come for ME)_

Her eyes are bright; there's blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Raven and Octavia and Murphy and Echo and Emori appear behind her, a few feet behind, observing the scene with terrified anticipation.

_Are you happy now?_

_You did it. You broke me. Are you fucking happy now?_

It's the worst nightmare yet. 

So, of course, Bellamy does the only thing that should be done. His voice rough and raspy and shattering from disuse, he looks up at Clarke and says, "Hey."

Clarke looks like she's about to say it back for a second, but then she groans in pain and falls to the floor, and then  _everyone_ loses their shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh


	18. Part Two - I Can't Get Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery from mental wounds isn't as easy as recovering from physical pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything sucks

**O N E  M O N T H  L A T E R**

* * *

 "She owns the house next to mine, and I haven't seen her once," Bellamy mutters, his fingers running through Echo's hair. He craves moments like these now; there was a dangerous sort of energy between him and Echo ever since Clarke came back, a burning, rotten anger bubbling just beneath the surface of their emotions. Now, in the summer evenings, they forget about that sometimes, and then they're just Bellamy and Echo, without the anger, without the dissonance.

Well, his statement seems to have awakened the monster - Echo's body tenses against his.

"You want to know where she is?" Echo asks, with a hint of resignation mixing with irritation edging her words.

"Of course I want to know where she is, Echo," Bellamy says tersely. She looks like she wants to argue, but then her face softens back into her normal expression. 

"She's still in the hospital," Echo mutters, brushing her fingers over the section of hair Bellamy's absentmindedly been braiding.

"She's been in there for a month, Echo, is she okay?"

"She's fine, Bellamy."

"Right, because you'd be fine if you had to spend a month in a hospital-"

"She's in a coma," Echo declares ominously, her eyes glued to the setting suns.

Even now that Bellamy knows she's back home and safe, he can't help but feel anxious from time to time, can't help but feel the horrible, crushing dread. And now, hearing this news about her, he feels worse.

"Will they ever let me see her?" he asks, hating how childish he sounds.

"I think that's up to her and Abby," Echo murmurs, crossing her arms. After a few moments of blissful silence, she sits up and touches his face.

Bellamy longs to tell her how much he misses Clarke, but he knows Echo isn't the person to talk to about it.

And besides, what will he even face when she wakes up?

Perhaps, Bellamy and Clarke have been damaged too much, until they splintered and shattered and just became Bellamy Bellamy Bellamy and Clarke Clarke Clarke, echoing endlessly but never colliding.

Bellamy and Clarke.

Bellamy - Clarke.

Bellamy.

Clarke.

In the sunset, everything about Echo turns gold; the color of her hair, the shade of her eyes. In that moment, she looks so heartbreakingly beautiful, like the physical embodiment of everything Bellamy's left behind and everything he cannot ever have. For just a moment, Echo is the first rain on Earth, the first rainbow he'd ever seen, the smell of the forest, the smiles of a hundred kids shining by a campfire.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "I'm okay."

He feels overwhelmed by just how much he loves her. But, perhaps, when he will look back on it a long, long time from now, he will see this as the moment he realizes he no longer loves Echo the way the two of them believe he does. No, he doesn't love her any less, despite everything she's done. But maybe, just maybe, he merely loves her instead of being in love with her.

* * *

"She'll be up soon," Jackson says, jerking his chin towards the door. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Are you sure Abby doesn't want to see her?" Bellamy counters, looking at the door.

"Abby's not well - withdrawal hasn't been kind to her, for sure," Jackson says sadly, pushing the door open.

Bellamy steps in, barely hears the door close behind her.

Clarke has never looked so small, not once in all the years he'd known her.

He walks over and settles into the chair next to her bed, takes her small, pale hand.

"Hey, Princess," he murmurs to the sleeping form, his voice fading amongst the steady beeping and the sound of her breathing. "Scared the shit outta me, you know?"

He blinks back tears. "We've missed a lot. You and me. And, uh..."

Not knowing what to say to her, the real Clarke, is getting normal for him.

"I was so scared," he admits. "I still am. I thought you were dead, Clarke. I thought you were... Well. It wouldn't be the first time. But I was so sure this time and at the same time, I wasn't. I still dream about it sometimes..."

He leans forward and brushes her hair away from her forehead. "I hope you enjoyed the other world as much as I did other than that. It was beautiful, Clarke. You would've loved it. I hope you never have any nightmares about where you were..."

He chuckles slightly to himself. "That'll be the day, Princess. The night, actually. Just one night where we didn't have any nightmares." Bellamy pauses. "Did you have nightmares, those six years after Praimfaya? I did. I had them all the time. But you came back to me. You'll come back to me now. Yeah," he murmurs, nodding his head with his eyes closed. "You'll come back."

He brings her hand to his mouth, and he doesn't know how long he sits there, listening to her breathe. 

* * *

His eyelids flutter a little, but he doesn't want to sleep. He's been here for an hour and a half, hasn't said another word since his last conversation with her. He drags his gaze from the scabs covering her recently split knuckles to her eyes, which are now open.

They just stare at each other for a long time. 

His heart sinks when she slowly pulls her fingers out of his grasp.

"Where-"

Her voice breaks, and she gingerly lifts her hand to bruises on her neck.

"Where's my mom?" she asks, her eyes not quite meeting Bellamy's anymore.

"Clarke," Bellamy breathes.

She's here. She's really, actually here, and still, Bellamy doesn't feel the sense of fulfillment he'd expected when Clarke finally woke up.

"Answer me." It is meant to be a command, but it comes out more as a plea.

"Abby's not feeling well," Bellamy says, hating himself for the look of anguish that flashes in Clarke's eyes when he mentions it. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Clarke tilts her head, turning the full force of her gaze onto him, and for a second he thinks something passes between them, the way it used to.

"Get out," Clarke rasps, tears threatening to spill over the lashes they desperately cling to. She turns her body away from him, her back shuddering. "Get out," she repeats, and so Bellamy does. 

* * *

Raven is at the big reception desk at the lowest level of the hospital. She looks up expectantly when Bellamy approaches, and together, they walk out into the summer afternoon. Bellamy takes Raven's hand, and then he's being pulled into her arms, his sobs muffled by her shoulder.

_(Echo did this.)_

_(Echo did this.)_

_(Echo did this.)_

_(I did this.)_

"Let's go home," Raven murmurs. "It's time to go home."

* * *

Maybe Bellamy isn't the only one who feels as lonely and afraid as he does now. But, the only other person who could even begin to understand what he's gone through does not even wish to be around him anymore.

And that's his fault, he guesses. His,  _and_ hers.

He will apologize.

For real - he will apologize. 

He will pluck all the stars from the sky and hand them to Clarke if it will even begin to mend the seemingly insurmountable space between them.

If the looks shared between them could mean something again, if he could come alive at her touch again, he would give her the world.

But Clarke wouldn't want the world. She'd want it to be safe, to be good, she'd want to save it. But if one were to try and give her the world, she would recoil and say she does not deserve the world.

No. Clarke doesn't deserve the world. She deserves more, after what the world has put her through.

He wants to go back to her - it feels like their hearts are connected by a string, and the farther he goes from more, the more painful the tug on his heart.

And then, he's struck with an intense desire to talk to Echo about her part in Clarke leaving camp - they hadn't talked about it, not once.

"Bellamy?" Echo asks, stepping into his bedroom. Surprisingly, Echo isn't living with him - she's still at camp most of the time, having taken it upon herself to guard Madi from, well, everything. But it's one of the few days where she's staying over.

"Yeah?" he asks, standing up.

Echo crosses the room in a few strides and kisses him, and it takes a moment for Bellamy to remember to kiss her back.

"You're thinking about something," Echo murmurs, tapping his head.

"I'm always thinking about something."

"Yeah, well, you're thinking more intensely than you usually do," she counters, observing him. Then she says after a moment, "How was your reunion with Clarke?"

"It was fine," Bellamy says immediately. 

He tries to pretend he didn't notice the momentary flash of rage in Echo's eyes, but that's simply too difficult for him.

So he leans forward and he kisses her again and again and lets it all go as far as Echo takes it until they're both sprawled on the bed with their clothes dropped in unknown locations and Bellamy is still,  _still_ thinking about Clarke.

* * *

"What's the deal with you and Echo?" Raven asks, getting onto the kitchen counter with minor difficulties. She lives just a few houses down the street, so she comes and visits Bellamy all the time.

"What do you mean, what's the deal with me and Echo? There's no deal," Bellamy mutters, then proceeds to finish all his water in one long swallow.

"She says you're always preoccupied with Clarke," Raven drawls. Bellamy understands to some degree the level of friendship between Raven and Echo, but the tone Raven uses right now is actually sly.

"I'm worried about her," Bellamy snaps, not sharing Raven's amusement. "Why is no one else worried about her?"

"She betrayed us," Raven immediately replies, her face hardening. "This is all her fault-"

Bellamy's head swivels to look at her. "So we're back to this bullshit, aren't we?" he asks. "Clarke saves our asses and we go back and spit in her face as thanks?"

"She's not a fucking saint, Bellamy!" Raven hisses.

"I know she isn't, Raven! Don't you fucking think I know that?"

"She left you to die! She sided with McCreary! She killed and she lied-"

"For  _Madi,"_ Bellamy murmurs. His voice is dangerously quiet. 

"That's not good enough of a reason," Raven bites back. "To do so much for just one person?"

"I shot the Chancellor for Octavia. I established  _anarchy_ among a hundred criminals under the age of eighteen for Octavia. Every  _stupid_ thing I did, I did for Octavia. I do it for Octavia, and you guys are okay with it. Clarke does something for Madi,  _Clarke_ makes the right choice for the wrong reason, and you hate her for it?"

Raven has fallen silent, but Bellamy does not stop.

"Clarke pulled that lever in Mount Weather for us. Clarke killed Finn for us, for him, too."

Raven's hands clench at her sides.

"Clarke made that list and tried to keep her ties with the Grounders for us," Bellamy continues. "And I know you guys are always wondering why the fuck I'm always going on about Clarke - it's because no one, not a single  _fucking_ other person does. Clarke makes all the hard choices for you, for me, and all we do is hate her for it. And then we laugh at her when she cries, but we never realize that she cries a lot fucking less than we would've. So forgive me, Raven, if I stop for one second and worry about her the way she worries about all of us."

"She wouldn't have come back for you," Raven says. "In that fighting pit. Echo told me. She wouldn't have come back to save you."

"Why are you guys ignoring all the stuff I did?" Bellamy asks. "I shoved an AI into Madi's head, after specifically promising Clarke to take care of her, and then handcuffing Clarke to a pole."

"You did it for us!"

"Wow," Bellamy murmurs in disbelief. "Did you not hear a fucking word of what I said before you so helpfully decided to tell me that Clarke would've left me to die?"

He can see the confusion in her eyes, morphing into realization, and shame quickly covered up by anger.

"You're hopeless," she snaps, and walks out of his house.

Bellamy goes up to his bedroom and sees Echo, asleep with a book lying open and facedown on her chest.

He somehow just knows for a fact that she'd heard their entire conversation.

* * *

Despite his apprehension, he returns to the hospital.

Clarke seems to be waiting when he slips into her room, leaning against the wall behind her bed with her hands holding on tightly to the blankets bunched up around her waist.

"What?" she asks. Her voice is still painfully raspy, and Bellamy can almost feel the pain of a thousand knives slicing the walls of Clarke's throat. "Are - are you here to..."

She seems to be at a complete loss for words, and that's the first thing that scares him; Clarke always knows what to say.

She looks frustrated with herself, and Bellamy notices one of her hands pulsing. No, not pulsing, but her fists rapidly tightening and then letting go, over and over and over. "Are you here to be mad at me?"

"If you need forgiveness," Bellamy murmurs, sitting on the edge of her bed. "I'll give that to you. You're forgiven, okay?"

Clarke's hands do not cease their movement. "Really?"

He nods. "Really. Do you forgive me?"

Clarke's eyes widen for a second, and her breathing goes all shallow and uneven. Her eyes are darting all over the room, her breathing getting faster and faster.

"Clarke, Clarke, hey," Bellamy implores, touching her arm. She slaps his fingers away with violent force using the hand that isn't pulsing.

"Stop it," she wheezes, tears streaming down her face. "Stop it, stop it, just get on with it already, please,  _please-"_

She shuts her eyes tight, her whole body shaking with sobs. Bellamy puts a hand on her shoulder, but she pulls it out of his grasp and groans in pain.

A dream.

She thinks it's a dream.

It's a horrifying realization - and when it hits Bellamy, it hits him hard. It is terrifying to conclude that the very essence of Clarke Griffin has been shattered into a million little pieces.

And all he does is sit and watch her fall apart.

"Please," she begs one last time, and her eyes close. At some point, she has either lost consciousness or fallen asleep. 

* * *

He is ashamed to admit it even to himself - but if Bellamy's being completely honest, he really doesn't want to know what happened to her in her alternate reality. Over the next few weeks, he always returns - Clarke simply stops speaking, but the episodes of pure panic continue, and he concludes that he is causing them.

It is unfathomable to him - a part of him doesn't want to begin to uncover the unspeakable horrors Clarke has faced, because he knows he could never, ever understand whatever had the ability to unravel a person the way it tore Clarke apart.

She's gone. There's just a shell of terror left behind.

Perhaps Bellamy does understand a little bit - he had felt the same fear when he thought Clarke had died, but that fear began to slowly ebb away after Clarke had returned. It was still there, but he was sure he could recover.

Clarke, on the other hand, seemed to no longer know any other emotion than that paralyzing, chilling fear - he could not count the number of times she had gone completely still beneath his fingers that he had meant to be comforting, her eyes staring at something he could not see.

He still visits her at night, sometimes. He waits until Jackson confirms that she's asleep before slipping into her room every time he does this.

Tonight, she's actually not writhing and twisting within the sheets - her face is smooth and calm, and there's a closed book under her folded hands.

On an impulse, Bellamy reaches out and slowly pries the book out of her grasp.

_**The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows** _

He tucks the book back under her fingers and sees a piece of paper lying next to Clarke on the bed, crammed with her neat handwriting.

> ****pâro** **
> 
> ****_n._ the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, “colder, colder, colder…”** **

He closes his eyes.

_Colder, colder, colder-_

* * *

For a long time, Echo doesn't visit. It's not because she's angry with Bellamy or anything, but she's simply too busy with something that no one has told him about.

And honestly, Bellamy's past the point of asking anyone anything.

His argument with Raven is ignored and unspoken of but not forgotten, at least not by Bellamy. And despite the fact that he and Raven are talking pretty normally, Bellamy can't feel like he's walking on eggshells whenever he talks to her.

So of course, he never mentions Clarke to either Raven or Echo.

Murphy is ecstatic when Clarke finally moves into her house - he spends a whole day with her, helping her get accustomed to living there.

When Bellamy asks him later how it went with Clarke, Murphy looked grave.

"'S'okay," Murphy murmured. "Never said a word, but she smiled once or twice."

God, he fucking loves John Murphy.

On the third night of Clarke's stay, he hears a pained scream precisely a minute before midnight. He's still awake, reading - and he recognizes the scream immediately.

And he runs.

Murphy gave him one of the extra keys to Clarke's house ("Just in case," he said with an unreadable smirk), so Bellamy grabs that from the dining table and he's out the door in less than a minute. 

He bursts into her house, bolts up the stairs, and sees Clarke sobbing so violently that her whole body is shaking. Both of her hands are pulsing now, and she just cries and cries.

Bellamy slides under her blanket and wraps her shaking body up in his arms, murmuring soothingly into her ear and stroking her arms.

"Go-" she chokes out before dissolving into tears again. Her feet are like blocks of ice against his legs.

"No," Bellamy murmurs into her soft hair. "I won't go anymore."

* * *

She eventually falls asleep, and Bellamy notices with faint relief that she did not struggle to escape his embrace.

That had to count for something, right?

His eyes close, his hand pressed to her heart.

Her heartbeat is slow and steady, and it doesn't take long for it to fall into sync with his.

"I'm here," he whispers to the darkness. "I'm here, Clarke."

She does not hear him.

* * *

It is an unspoken agreement - well, speaking is out of the question for Clarke. But still, no words are required for them to make an arrangement. Now, Clarke spends her days at her house and her nights with Bellamy. Sometimes shaking in cold terror, and sometimes just sleeping.

No one knows about it - once again, the secret is shared just between Bellamy and Clarke, enveloping their bodies, which are so tightly tangled together Bellamy wonders how it's so easy for them to get out of bed in the morning.

He is there for each of her nightmares, and still he cannot stop them.

He has nightmares, too, but they no longer have him yelling and shaking. 

_(I hope you never have any nightmares about where you were...)_

It is dark right now.

Clarke's back is pressed against his chest, and he lets his forehead drop onto her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, he wonders what happened to her while he was gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u g h 
> 
> y e e t


	19. I've Been Trying Hard To Reach You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy pieces together everything that's happened since he's been gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are hella thicc

Echo comes back two weeks after Clarke is released from the hospital.

"Murphy?" Bellamy asks the man in question, who is currently glaring into his glass of water as he sits at Bellamy's dining table. "Will you spend the night at Clarke's house?"

He looks up. "Huh? I mean, yeah, but why?"

"I don't want her to be alone," Bellamy confesses. "She's been sleeping over here but now that Echo's back-"

"Idiot," Murphy mutters, and goes back to staring at his water.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bellamy asks, narrowing his eyes.

Murphy swivels his head both directions as if he's checking to see if anyone's listening, then sighs. "Bellamy, do you know what Echo did while you were gone?"

"Yeah, Octavia told me," Bellamy mumbles.

"And you haven't talked to Echo about it?" Murphy's voice is assertive.

"How would I?" Bellamy asks. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Are you still mad at Clarke?"

"Uh, no."

"Do you care about her?"

"What the fuck do you think, Murphy?"

"Yeah, you do. So why do you keep coming up with excuses to not hold someone responsible for all her pain?"

Bellamy doesn't have anything to say.

"It's because the person who is mostly, most tangibly responsible is someone you're so convinced you love, right?" Murphy asks, finishing his water like he's taking a shot.

"I guess," Bellamy murmurs, turning away.

"You need to talk to Echo, dude. We've all been avoiding the truth for far too long."

"What if my truth isn't the same as yours?" Bellamy asks.

"Echo wants Clarke dead - she always has. That's the simplest part of it, Bellamy. You need to start by acknowledging that."

"Echo doesn't want Clarke dead anymore," Bellamy implores. Echo cares about him too much for that.

"It's a pretty selfish train of thought, bro," Murphy states, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Echo will always want her dead. Even if you don't like that, it will always be like that. And I don't know, Bellamy. We could tell ourselves that it's because Clarke left you to die in Polis, but I feel like it's something else."

"Yeah?" Bellamy mutters. "Enlighten me, Murphy."

"Maybe Echo's jealous," Murphy murmurs, obviously choosing his words very carefully. "Jealous of the fact that you care so much about Clarke."

It's all simply too true to deny - Bellamy does care about Clarke.

"Is it bad?" he asks Murphy. "That I care?"

"You're one of the only people that do, Bellamy," Murphy says sadly. "But if you really care then you need to see past your own biases and try to understand what Echo has done."

"I just want to help Clarke," Bellamy groans. "I don't want to bring all this other stuff into it."

"I know you're saying that because  _you're_ too afraid to face the reality of it," Murphy implores. There's a moment of silence. "Something broke Clarke," he continues. "And I know it's hard for you to accept it but I don't think you yourself can really fix her."

Bellamy lowers his head.

"You guys really did a number on each other," Murphy mutters, lightly shoving Bellamy's shoulder. "Both of you are too fucked up to put each other back together right now."

His words are blunt, but they are true.

"Yeah," Bellamy finally agrees. "I guess you're right."

"Will you talk to her? Echo?" Murphy asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

"Yeah."

* * *

They don't talk at all, not for a long time.

(Echo tastes like saltwater - it reminds him of the ocean.)

* * *

The day after Echo leaves, Murphy shows up at his door. There are tears in his eyes.

"Murphy," Bellamy says, pulling him inside, grabbing his shoulders. "Murphy, what is it?"

"She wouldn't stop yelling," Murphy mumbles, his eyes closed. "She screamed and she screamed and Clarke just  _took it_."

"Who, Murphy?"

"Raven," he whispers, and then he's pressing his hands to his eyes and whirling around so his back is to Bellamy. "Clarke never said a word."

"Where is Raven?" Bellamy asks, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Gone," Murphy sniffles. "She left for camp."

Clarke doesn't come back that night, or the next, or for ten nights after. 

* * *

**O N E  M O N T H  L A T E R**

Bellamy meets Russell Hall - the real one. 

He likes him immediately, likes his wise eyes, likes his easy nature. Bellamy won't trust him so easily, but he thinks they're on the right track.

Russell's better than the Grounders, anyway.

Also, Russell has a son, Alex - someone he likes considerably less. However, that may be just due to the fact that Alex is the only person other than Murphy that can make Clarke smile.

It infuriates him.

They're all at the original Wonkru camp right now, and Bellamy feels oddly out of place here, having been surrounded by tall glass buildings and regular houses for the majority of the last few months.

But it reminds him of when they first landed on Earth, and that makes him feel a little better.

Bellamy finds himself walking to the garden, and he hears Murphy's smug voice.

"Come on, Griffin. You know you want to."

There's a small feminine chuckle, and Bellamy exhales when he realizes it's  _Clarke._

_Laughing._

"Clarke..." Murphy taunts, and then there's an undignified snort, dissolving into full, free laughter. Clarke's voice is much lower than normal, and still scratchy, and her laughter turns into a fit of coughing. Bellamy arrives just in time to see Murphy pat Clarke's back, and when she's done coughing, they just start laughing again.

It makes him strangely sad to her happy, and god, Bellamy hates himself for that feeling. 

* * *

It just hurts him all the time, to see Clarke slowly forgetting about him.

He's following Murphy's advice, letting her heal on her own, or at least have the support of more reliable. As most people go, Bellamy's glad that Murphy's taken it upon himself to be with Clarke.

And, whether he likes it or not, between peace meetings and learning about Eligius culture, Alexander Hall seems to be making a good impression with Clarke as well.

Neither Raven nor Echo ever talk to Clarke, and it makes Bellamy angry, but honestly, what can he do about it?

_You could always just talk to them._

All of a sudden, Bellamy misses Monty and Harper with a fiery, burning passion. He misses them so much that it hurts, because they'd know exactly what to do.

He sees them in Jordan, who has Harper's smile and Monty's eyes and everything just  _hurts._

So he draws away.

It's all he can really do.

Because he's a fucking coward.

There's one night, when Clarke walks into camp late at night, bruises on her face.

"What happened?" Bellamy asks, running over to her.

She just shakes her head, and then she leaves, looking for Madi. 

* * *

Every night they spend at camp, Clarke disappears for walks after dinner, and she comes back looking like someone beat the shit out of her.

Bellamy can't even ask her what's happening and he's always so sickeningly anxious again, so anxious he's exhausted himself trying to throw up and still  _nothing_ fucking happens.

"Murphy," he asks him one day. "What the fuck is happening to Clarke?"

"She won't tell anyone, Bellamy, she's still not talking to  _anyone,"_ he snaps, looking stressed. 

So Bellamy goes to ask again.

It's after they go back to the city, and he starts noting Clarke's movements, and soon, he knows exactly where she'll be.

There's a huge, beautiful field just at the end of their street, and he knows Clarke goes there, every single day. Summer still hasn't reached its peak, so there's a slight chill before the sun sets.

He finds her, walking across the field, framed in blinding gold. Her hair has straightened out completely ever since she got back, and it's currently tied back into a high ponytail that swings from side to side as she walks.

It's beautiful. It's terrifying, and she's beautiful, and it's shattering his heart to watch her.

He runs.

"Clarke!" he calls. "Clarke!"

She hesitates for a moment but she doesn't stop walking.

So he runs and he grabs her shoulder, the uninjured one, hopefully.

She jumps and turns around, her big blue eyes staring directly into his own, and he's momentarily disarmed. This is the closest he's really been to her in a while.

"Tell me," he breathes raggedly, a cool breeze rushing through his short hair. "Please, just tell me."

He doesn't specify what he wants her to tell him - he knows she knows.

Clarke tilts her chin up, a hint of her old defiance flashing through her eyes.

"Hiking," she says.

It's the first word she's said to anyone in a long time.

And then she runs, and Bellamy doesn't follow her.

The worst thing is, he doesn't know whether she's even lying or not.

* * *

"What did you do?" Bellamy immediately asks, walking up to Echo, who waits on the porch of his house. "What did you do to her?"

"What do you mean? Who?" Echo asks, crossing her arms.

"Clarke. Why did she leave camp?" Bellamy feels immensely apprehensive about the confrontation - but it's long overdue.

"She wanted to look for you," Echo says, her eyes wide. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I know something happened - I know most of what happened. Octavia told me what you did to Clarke."

There are several agonizing minutes of complete silence.

"She deserved it," Echo says, so,  _so_ quietly. "She's a traitor to our people."

Bellamy puts his hands on his head. "Echo..."

He tried so hard to not believe it - he tried to keep Echo out of it.

"Why do you always choose to ignore every bad thing she's done?" Echo snaps.

"Why do  _you_ always focus only on the bad things she's done?" Bellamy says, looking up. 

"Because lately, she's been doing more good than bad!" another voice chimes in, and Bellamy turns to see Raven standing there. Murphy appears behind her.

"Raven, don't!" Murphy pleads, and Emori is there, too, holding Murphy's arm.

"She's been gone!" Bellamy yells. "She was in some hellhole that we can't even know about and you still want to find a way to blame her for everything?"

Murphy swallows and walks over to Bellamy. It's obvious, whatever's going on here - they're choosing sides.

So Emori joins him and Murphy, and suddenly they're facing Raven and Echo.

"Was it because of you?" Bellamy asks, looking into Echo's eyes. "Did you do this to her?"

"I didn't do anything," Echo hisses. "She's the one who tried to find you."

"And you're the one who made her leave camp," Murphy says quietly.

Echo glares at Murphy. "Stay out of it, John."

"Clarke is our friend," Emori declares, her eyes flashing.

"Don't fight on my account," a small voice says, and every head turns to face the blonde, standing tall on the steps to Bellamy's house.

"Oh, great," Raven snaps. "Are you here to try and fix everything again?"

"Shut up, Raven," Emori says, and Raven leans back, looking surprised and hurt.

"I just don't want you to fight because of me," Clarke murmurs, coming close to them. She doesn't have any new bruises, but her old ones stand out against her pale face more so now than ever. "It's not a matter of fault."

"You could've stopped Bellamy from falling into that thing!" Echo yells at her. "In fact, you could have just not left him to be slaughtered in a fighting pit run by his basket-case sister-"

"You shut the fuck up about my sister," Bellamy hisses, turning his head to Echo. His head is spinning - Echo never openly said anything bad about his sister, not once in all the time that he has known her. Until now.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy, but it's true," Echo murmurs. 

"It wasn't really Octavia, though," Raven says, a horrible sneer marring her face. "It's  _you,_ Clarke. It was always  _you._ You did this. Because of you, we don't have Earth. This is all on you. You know that? All of this is on you, and all this fucking blood is on your hands. So sorry about whatever the fuck you saw when you tried to look for Bellamy in a pathetic excuse of trying to do the right thing, but really, you had it coming. You need a reality check."

Clarke recoils, disbelief on her face morphing into surprise and such pure pain when she asks, "Are you seriously telling me this is all my fault?"

Raven, evidently noting Clarke's expression, looks slightly ashamed, but she says, "Yes," without a single ounce of hesitation.

Clarke's lips part just slightly, her chest rising and falling as she takes a deep breath.

Bellamy can actually witness her heart shattering into a million pieces.

He's frozen - he barely has any idea what the fuck is going on.

"You wanted to know how I got these, Bellamy?" Clarke finally says, her fingers ghosting over a purplish bruise on her cheekbone.

"Don't," Echo says in a low murmur, and slowly, before anyone can say anything, it all comes together in one, horrifying, clear picture.

"It was her," Clarke says, almost regretfully, looking at Echo, and then suddenly, Echo's moving faster than his eyes can follow and her fist is colliding with Clarke's jaw, and everyone's screaming and holding Echo back and in the commotion Clarke is leaving and Bellamy can't fucking breathe and he's holding onto Murphy and he can't see and every color is fading from his head and he vaguely hears the words 'panic attack' floating through his head in Emori's worried voice and everything is just too fucking much so Bellamy walks inside and he shuts the door and he locks it and they're still screaming outside but he can't hear them, he can't hear them at all-

* * *

It is nighttime by the time Bellamy has the strength to go downstairs and unlock the door.

There's a knock at his door within five minutes of that, and he opens it to find Echo standing there, her cheeks flushed.

"Bellamy-" she begins.

"I don't want to talk," he says, holding back tears. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Bellamy, you have to understand-"

"I understand enough, Echo."

Silence.

"You hurt Clarke," Bellamy says. "And maybe, in some other world, I might forgive that. I might. But you hurt me, too. And not just because you hurt Clarke."

"If this is about your sister-"

"It's not about O."

"Bellamy, please. I was angry."

"So was I," he says, looking down so Echo doesn't see the tears in his eyes. "But I - no one would have done what you did."

Echo's eyes are bright with rage and desperation.

"Don't come back," he tells her. "Please."

He closes the door, waits for fifteen minutes, exactly, and then he raises a hand to his mouth and quietly begins to sob. 

* * *

He stops by her house sometimes, when he's running through the neighborhood.

But he can't face Clarke - not yet.

Murphy is still diligently taking care of her, and Bellamy feels more grateful to him than anyone else in that moment.

Despite the whole argument, despite Clarke talking again, a part of him still feels so achingly incomplete, so horribly wrong. 

He feels as there is one important thing to be done, and he just doesn't know what it is. He's reached a stalemate with the world - there's nothing he can do about anything.

Losing Echo is hurting him more than he thought it would, and though he's been able to get all his emotions out in front of his sister a couple times, he still feels like everything is building up inside him.

And he's still so scared and so anxious all the time.

"You worry yourself sick," Octavia tells him one day, wiping sweat from his forehead after yet another unsuccessful attempt to empty his stomach.

Bellamy Blake doesn't cry - he shouldn't.

But he does now.

Lying awake at night, brushing away a few tears when he talks to Octavia.

"Do you ever wonder why this all happened?" Octavia asks him another night, her legs in Bellamy's lap, her eyes thoughtful. "All that Speculo bullshit?"

"I'll figure it out later," he replies quietly.

He doesn't see Clarke for weeks. 

* * *

He dreams that Clarke bleeds out in front of him. The dream repeats itself every night.

Bellamy stops sleeping, which doesn't help much for his physical health. Octavia almost loses her shit after she bullies him into telling her about that.

"Please, O. I don't want to sleep," he implores.

Octavia just gives him a sad look. "You have to."

* * *

One day, he goes back to the field - or the edge of it, really.

Clarke is there - the way she always is.

Except - she's with Alex.

They're both outlined in gold - one sun for each person.

And as he watches, Clarke reaches out and takes Alex's hand.

Bellamy exhales and turns away, his eyes slowly closing.

_(I loved her, Mom.)_

It's happening all over again.

That night, Bellamy dreams about Clarke, running through the field, turning her head back to smile at him, her eyes shining.

It's not a nightmare, but it has him waking up in the morning with tears in his eyes and his heart physically aching, his heart pounding and pounding for someone he'd lost long ago.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so if u can't tell i'm hella sad


	20. 'Cause I Don't Know What To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke finally make their peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just realized this fic was longer in terms of time than i thought?????

It's been nine months and two weeks since he came back. Clarke came back three months and one week after he did.

They've been on Eligius for a year and three months. In the haze of the trauma of everything, Bellamy hadn't even noticed or paid any attention to time, to anything. Somewhere, Clarke had turned twenty-six, and Bellamy had turned twenty-eight a month after.

He's glad no one remembered their birthdays - or maybe someone did, and they just didn't mention anything.

Over the course of meetings with Russell and his people, Bellamy comes to the conclusion that Alex and Clarke are together.

It starts out as nagging suspicion when he sees the looks that pass between them whenever they're together.

Then Clarke adds him to the list of the very few people she's talking to.

And then Alex makes her laugh, and god, Bellamy hasn't heard Clarke laugh since before Mount Weather.

And of course, Clarke barely speaks to him. However, he doesn't think it's because she's angry with him.

Because whenever she looks at him, there's grief and fear.

_She saw me. I was there in whatever universe she ended up in._

The thought makes him sad.

After a year and three months of the darkness that had hung over their people in the wake of Bellamy and Clarke's disappearance and the aftermath of what they faced, Russell encourages Diyoza and Kane, who fortunately made a full recovery from his wound, and now the leaders of their people, to join them for an event in their city. A holiday, dawning as their seemingly endless summer fades into beautiful autumn. 

"Yeah," Kane agrees. Bellamy can't help but notice he looks so much healthier ever since he got engaged to Abby, who is also doing so much better.

Bellamy resents her for the obvious distance between her and her daughter.

And then, going back to support his suspicions, out of the corner of his eye as people leave the large glass meeting room designated for Eligius-Wonkru relations, he sees Alex lean down and plant a kiss on Clarke's lips.

He wonders how long he can go telling himself that this is what he deserves.

However, though he sees Clarke return the kiss with surprising sweetness, judging by the way her fingers gently cup his jaw, her head turns to face Bellamy later when they're all out of the room, and for the first time, there is something different in her expression, something strangely like longing.

But then again, as Bellamy shoves his hand into his pockets and heads for the train station that will take him back home, he isn't quite so sure of anything anymore. 

* * *

It takes one month for the whole Alex and Clarke thing to fall apart. Precisely one day before the nice event planned out for them.

It's hilarious, really, when he thinks about it. He's lying on his back under one of the trees in the park on one of the last hot evenings of the year, Murphy and Emori sitting with their legs crossed and talking to each other about something unimportant. Bellamy's glad they've settled their differences despite their numerous breakups - they're better off as friends anyway.

And then, Clarke Griffin walks over to them and sits down right in front of Murphy, who reaches out to start braiding her hair.

Bellamy tenses up - he's not sure what to do around Clarke anymore.

He hears a watery sigh - Clarke's crying, but whether it's tears of anger or sadness, he can't tell.

"Alex?" Emori asks.

"Who the fuck else?" Clarke replies.

There's a long silence before Bellamy hears Murphy burst out laughing.

"Stop laughing," Clarke snaps, and then she starts laughing, too, and that makes Emori laugh, and then even Bellamy cracks a smile, even though he says nothing and he's pretty sure no one sees it.

He can almost,  _almost_ pretend that they're back on Earth and they're just kids again. 

* * *

Now,  _this_ is a party.

Well, it's nothing huge and flashy - it started as nice dinners in the restaurants lining the brightly lit streets of the Capital City. Now, it's dancing and singing echoing through the streets.

Later, they're all at Murphy's apartment nestled deeper in the city - turns out Murphy really likes city life.

And, it's a huge apartment, so it naturally becomes the designated spot for gatherings.

Bellamy loves this night so far - he feels so young again, back in front of a blazing fire by a dropship.

Weird how that had been almost eight years ago. Plus a hundred and twenty-five.

Bellamy returns from a long talk with Miller where they caught up and forgave and cried and nodded at each other like total idiots and then gave in and hugged each other until they almost suffocated each other, to find Clarke standing at the front of the room, a shy smile on her face.

Oh, and she's singing.

Her voice stops Bellamy dead in his tracks, on his way to go sit next to Murphy and awkwardly try to avoid Raven. Octavia comes to stand next to him, her eyes slowly closing as Clarke's voice washes over them all.

 _"Everybody here is watching you, 'cause you feel like home..."_ Clarke sings, and it surprises Bellamy, how strong her voice is, how unwaveringly, devastatingly beautiful. And as she sings, Bellamy's heart, the stupid, cold, shriveled thing in his chest wakes up and starts to beat again.

_"You look like a movie, you sound like a song, my god, this reminds me, of when we were young..."_

Her eyes meet his, and Bellamy's pretty sure he's the only one whose eyes aren't closed right now.

_"Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time that we might, be exactly like we were before we realized, we were sad of getting old, it made us restless..."_

And now Clarke's eyes are closed, too, her head tipped back as she belts the notes out, and Bellamy goes from feeling a beautiful shock to a terrible sadness, mourning, mourning, mourning.

_"It was just like a movie, it was just like a song..."_

Clarke sings and sings, and Bellamy can't help but wonder if it hurts her throat, singing so freely and so passionately, especially a song like the one she's singing.

_"I was so scared to face my fears_

_Nobody told me that you'd be here  
_

_And I swear you'd moved overseas  
_

_That's what you said when you left me..."_

Her dress, shimmering silver, making her eyes shine brighter than the skies of Eligius, ripples when she sways a little. She repeats the chorus with a little more sorrow than before, and Bellamy can see tears shimmering in her eyes as she brings the song to a close.

_"It's hard to admit that everything just takes me back  
_

_To when you were there, to when you were there  
_

_And a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn't gone  
_

_Cause I still care, do you still care?_

_It was just like a movie  
_

_It was just like a song  
_

_My God, this reminds me  
_

_Of when we were young_

_Let me photograph you in this light  
_

_In case it is the last time that we might  
_

_Be exactly like we were before we realized  
_

_We were sad of getting old, it made us restless  
_

_Oh, I'm so mad I'm getting old, it makes me reckless  
_

_It was just like a movie  
_

_It was just like a song  
_

_When we were young."_

Everyone's eyes open, and even Raven looks swept away with the power of Clarke's singing. Everyone's eyes open, and the world reverts from the dreamlike quality it took on when Clarke started to sing back to reality. And though everyone looks so amazed and happy, Bellamy just feels crushing sorrow.

Because now, he realizes, even in his happiest moments, there will always be a root of sorrow. 

* * *

He's sitting on Murphy's balcony when she joins him.

He turns his head to the face that is so familiar and yet so unknown to him now, tries to reacquaint himself with the silky golden locks and bright blue eyes.

"How long has it been since you sang?"

He tries to tell himself to calm down - but this is his first conversation with Clarke in a long, long time.

"A while," she murmurs, her eyes on the stars.

"I lo - it was beautiful," Bellamy says gruffly, swallowing. His whole body feels electric and restless, her very presence intoxicating him.

"Better than I thought it would be," Clarke says. She turns to face him. "I didn't think I could be around you."

"Why?" his voice makes him sound like he's on the verge of tears. Maybe he is.

"Seeing you reminds me..."

She trails off, tilting her chin down.

"You don't have to tell me what it reminds you of," Bellamy supplies.

"It's post-traumatic stress disorder," Clarke says. "There are -  _things,_ that bring everything back. Noises, faces, words."

"My face," Bellamy says.

"Especially yours," Clarke murmurs.

And suddenly, Clarke's fingers brush his, and his heart is pounding and he feels dizzy and short of breath, but not entirely in a bad way.

He thinks it might be an accident, but then her fingers are laced with his, and he tries not to sigh out loud.

"I'd think you'd also be angry with me," Bellamy mutters.

"I was," Clarke agrees. "But I don't wanna feel that way anymore."

Bellamy shakes his head. "I don't either."

"I'm sorry I left you to die," Clarke says, and with a tug on his hand, she forces him to look at her. "I'm sorry, Bell. You have to understand that."

There's a flash of something in her eyes when she realizes she just used the intimate nickname, but Bellamy finds that he likes the sound of it spilling from her lips.

Her tantalizingly nice lips.

_Snap out of it, Bellamy._

"And I'm sorry, too. I should've-"

"Could've, should've, would've," Clarke spits. "It's all in the past now, Bellamy."

"So let's live in the present," Bellamy suggests.

Clarke's fingers stroke his own, and Bellamy's finding it really hard to keep his breathing even.

"I just want my best friend back," she says gently, sadly, her eyes glowing with emotion.

"You have him right here," he says with a small smile, and they just look at each other with a searing gaze, and for a second, Bellamy thinks they're going to kiss.

But she leans forward and throws her arms around him, and Bellamy immediately buries his face in her hair, noting the goosebumps on her bare shoulders from the chill of the night. Her nose slides along the line of his jaw and the column of his throat, her lips settling in the crook of his neck, her body shaking as she takes shuddering breaths of air.

"Does my face still remind you of it, though?" Bellamy asks in concern. He doesn't want to be the cause of her pain.

Not anymore.

"It will always remind me," Clarke breathes, her mouth brushing his throat. "But I don't want it to keep me away from you."

"If it's too much," Bellamy breathes onto her skin. "Then stay away."

"No," she snaps. Then, more gently. "No."

She pulls away. "Being away from you makes it worse, Bellamy. So much worse."

Her eyes are brimming with tears.

"Okay," he concedes, abruptly remembering that his hands are on her waist. He sighs. "I'm sorry about Madi. The Flame."

Clarke steps out of his embrace with a grim nod. "Had to be done."

He really wishes he'd stop having to be stuck in that mentality.

"How is she?" Bellamy asks, hoping talking about Madi will make Clarke feel better. It evidently doesn't.

"I wouldn't know," Clarke says bitterly. "I haven't spoken to Madi in a while."

"I thought she was staying with you...?"

"Madi is staying with Echo. She's taken quite a liking to her."

There's a crushing, thick silence.

"Does Madi know what Echo's done to you?" Bellamy asks, trying to keep the anger out of his tone.

"Hell if I know," Clarke murmurs.

"Clarke, I'm-"

"Sorry. I know."

Bellamy sighs as she angles her body away from his a little, her head turning back up to the stars.

"What was the deal with you and Alex?" Bellamy asks after a while.

He can imagine Clarke's sour expression. "He helped me adjust to reality. But I guess - I guess he wasn't the one."

"The one," Bellamy repeats, leaning forward. "Kind of a weird concept. What if there's more than just  _the one?"_

"Philosophical Bellamy," Clarke mutters. "Kinda weird."

"It's a reasonable question," Bellamy counters, fighting a small smile.

"I don't know, Bellamy," Clarke murmurs. "One can never be sure in terms of love."

They don't speak for a while after that until Clarke murmurs something about the cold and goes inside. Bellamy's eyes follow her back, and he can thin white scars shooting out from the top of the back of her dress.

He wonders how many she has. 

* * *

It's an uneasy sort of peace, being friends with Clarke again. 

They're lying side by side in the field one night, their jackets zipped up. 

"I missed you," Clarke says quietly.

"I know," Bellamy replies. He knows she's talking about the six years on the ground.

_The calls._

"Clarke-"

"Do you think they came up with constellations here? The stars are different than they were on Earth."

Bellamy swallows his words. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Can I ask you something, Bellamy?"

"You just did."

"Well can I ask you another question?"

"You just did, again."

"Fine, then can I ask you  _two_ questions?" Clarke asks, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time.

Bellamy smiles. "You just did."

"No, I didn't! When?" Clarke asks, then inhales sharply as she realizes what she just fell for. She reaches over and slaps his arm. "Jackass."

"Well, you can ask me now," Bellamy says, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

"Did you ever talk to me? On the Ring? Like, try to radio me?"

Bellamy turns his head to face her. "I - no. I just - something in me just snapped after Praimfaya. I was just-"

"I did. I called. Every day for two-thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine days."

"Madi told me," Bellamy confesses.

Clarke sighs.

"Why me? I mean, did you just talk to me?"

"Only you."

Bellamy can see Clarke's blush even in the moonlight.

He swallows. "Why?"

"You're my best friend. You're the best friend I've ever had, next to - next to maybe Wells."

"I'm still your best friend," Bellamy murmurs.

"Always."

"Can I sleep at your place?" she asks after a moment.

"You mean our place?" Bellamy corrects her. The statement comes out a bit wrong, insinuating something that isn't true, but Clarke sighs in relief.

"Our place," Clarke says. 

"I mean - well - you can stay as long as you need, come over whenever you need."

Clarke lets out a small sigh. "Thanks."

Bellamy takes her hand.

"If you're thinking I can be fixed," Clarke says after a long time. "Then-"

"Clarke," Bellamy says raggedly. "Whatever happens, I'm not -  _ever -_ leaving your side again."

"I have nothing left to give to anyone," Clarke breathes, her voice astonishingly steady.

"You're giving me something," Bellamy tells her, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

"What, Bellamy?"

Bellamy sighs, his thumb grazing her knuckles.

They are both shattered beyond repair, but they are not alone.

"Hope."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song clarke sings is 'When We Were Young' by Adele  
> last chapter before things get wack


	21. I Can't Believe It's True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke get their heads back in the game.

He opens one eye, and then another. It's still dark outside, and Clarke is sitting up, her face lit up in the pale moonlight. Her eyes are closed and she's taking deep, steadying breaths, her hand on the pillow in between their bodies. Clarke seemed to still be afraid to be sleeping right next to him, so she insisted they keep a pillow in between them.

"Clarke?" he groans.

She jumps a little at the sound of his voice. "Go back to sleep, Bellamy."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

She's still awake when Bellamy closes his eyes. 

* * *

Russell requested a meeting with them that morning, so now Bellamy and Clarke stand by the window. Clarke seems lost today, disconnected from everyone and everything. Bellamy hopes he isn't the one causing that.

"Ah. You're here," Russell says from behind them, and they both turn at the same time to face the man.

"What is it?" Clarke asks.

"Better if I show you," Russell says grimly, walking over to the table and hitting a few buttons on the side to bring the blue holograph to life.

"Is that-" Clarke begins.

"The Speculo," Bellamy breathes.

"You know its name?" Russell asks, raising an eyebrow.

Bellamy nods, stepping closer to the image of the silver pool. "This is the same location where Clarke and I went in."

"Yeah, well, we have some interesting information on that," Russell murmurs, replacing the Speculo with a map, different parts of in different shades of blue. "You guys landed in an area of neutral territory between Eligius and Aurora."

"Aurora?"

"Second Dawn, as it so began so many years ago," Russell murmurs. "The Kingdom of Aurora."

"Did you just say kingdom?" Bellamy says.

"Ruled by Queen Gemmaline Kal."

"And you're just telling us this now?" Clarke asks in disbelief. "What does this have to do with the Speculo?"

"The Speculo was - created, I suppose, by Aurora. That thing you went through? It has ties to Gemmaline."

"Why is it in neutral territory?" Clarke asks, crossing her arms. "If it's so important to Gemmaline-"

"It was what the queen intended," Russell murmurs.

"Hold up," Bellamy says. "What the queen intended? You mean, she  _wanted_ us to get stuck in that shithole? And how would you know this?"

"We have spies embedded in the kingdom," Russell declares, and Bellamy feels a twist of nausea in his gut because it reminds him of the Other Clarke. "And we just received this intel last night."

"What does this have to do with any of us, then?" Clarke snaps.

"The Queen takes a sadistic pleasure in testing the bounds of the human mind and body," Russell says delicately. "Always searching for a way to evolve into a higher race."

"Tyrant, stirring revolution in the slums of her kingdom, and she's the one responsible for this. So I take it you want us to clean up her mess?" Clarke asks, and though her words themselves are venomous, her tone sounds resigned.

"I'm saying we want your help," Russell says. "I'd talk to Charmaine and Marcus, but it seemed to me that-"

"We're in charge," Bellamy finishes, chancing a glance at Clarke. 

"It's not just that, Bellamy," Russell says gently. "You guys would understand this better than most of your people."

There's a long silence, and Bellamy keeps looking at Clarke, who is deep in thought.

"Okay," she says finally, and Bellamy's mouth falls open in disbelief. "We'll do it. Whatever it is you need us to do."

"You would've had time to think about it-" Russell begins.

"I did think about it," Clarke says, tossing her hair over one shoulder with a jerk of her head. "I've made my choice. Bellamy can make his."

"Don't do it just because you have someone to direct your anger at for everything that's happened," Bellamy implores.

"The people of Eligius are our people now," Clarke declares, facing Russell. "I don't know much about this. I don't know what the queen has done, I don't know how far she will go for whatever philosophy she has in mind. But whatever you need, Russell - we'll try to give it to you. I will."

"I will, too," Bellamy says, his eyes still on Clarke. She looks so determined - but even so, Bellamy can no longer understand her the way he used to. 

"Now that you've agreed," Russell says, switching off the table. "Whatever information you receive from now on is strictly classified. Understand?"

"Yes," he and Clarke say at the same time.

(He doesn't.)

* * *

"Bellamy, if you ask me if I'm sure about this one more time, I'm going to strangle you in your sleep," Clarke says tiredly, rubbing her temples. The train comes to a sudden stop at one of its stations, and Bellamy has to tighten his grip on the pole as inertia shoves him forward, and Clarke ends up pressed against the wall, one hand still on the pole as she stands chest to chest with Bellamy.

"Sorry," he mutters, taking a step back, trying to forget the rush of warm breath on his throat as she exhaled.

"How many more stations until ours?" Clarke asks, tilting her head up to read the map on the ceiling of the train.

"Two more."

"Kings and queens," Clarke muses. "Who would've thought we'd ever be involved with that?"

"I mean, I had to make sure the princess didn't get herself killed every five minutes," Bellamy says with a smirk.

"The same princess who happened to have to do the same for the king," Clarke counters with a roll of her eyes.

"I know you want some sort of revenge for the queen did to us-"

"I just want the best for my people," Clarke sighs.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Of course. What else is new?"

Clarke looks hurt and irritated. "Don't you start with some rant about hero syndrome or whatever."

"I wasn't," Bellamy says. (He was.)

"You're great at lying to everyone except me," Clarke says, watching the buildings zoom past, deliberately keeping her eyes away from Bellamy's face. "Bell," she breathes after a moment, clearly having spotted something outside the window, and Bellamy turns his head to see.

It's the very heart of the city, with the tallest buildings and busiest streets.

Bellamy's relieved to see that the two towers, Lux and Tenebris, are not there. There is a set of silver towers, though, taller than the rest.

"Ready to save the world again?" Clarke asks.

"Guess I am," he replies, and they walk out into the open-roofed station, and for a moment, he can't help but feel a spark of excitement because yeah, Bellamy and Clarke  _are back._

* * *

It's an odd experience, being able to go wherever. Russell had given the two of them dark leather, wallet-like things that had a sleek badge in them. All they have to do is hold it up whenever they approach a door that is obviously not meant for someone else. The whole system gets them all the way up to the sixtieth level of one of the main towers, and when they approach another door leading to the meeting room Russell directed them to, they're stopped by someone.

"This is as far as you can go for now," Alex Hall says, running a hand through his copper waves of hair. Clarke's eyes close for a quarter of a second too long to be a blink.

"Thanks, Alex," Clarke says in a slightly strained voice. "But what are we doing now?"

"Waiting for the others to show up. It's gonna be a pretty quick thing. You'll get your information, your objectives, and then we'll send you on your way."

"Great," Bellamy mutters. "Thanks."

Alex shrugs, leading them towards another hall. 

**T E M P O R A R Y  R E S I D E N T I A L  W I N G**

"Residential," Clarke says skeptically.

"Everyone will be here tomorrow morning. You'll stay the night," Alex says, and there's something in his tone that reminds Bellamy of Finn going off on some pointless rant about Clarke, and suddenly he has to stifle a laugh.

"Thanks, Alex," Clarke says, clearly catching on as well. "We'll take one room." And with that, Clarke drags him through the door Alex just unlocked. She shuts the door, and smiles when she locks it with a decisive click.

"That was awkward," Bellamy says, then almost swallows his tongue when he sees the single bed.

"Yeah," Clarke agrees with a soft sigh, and then adjusts the strap of her backpack as she turns to go to the bathroom to change.

Bellamy releases a sigh of his own, walking over to the small window. The sun is setting now, casting harsh hues of red and orange and gold over the whole city.

He wonders what's at stake in what they're about to do.

* * *

"You'll have to offer to help her with her research," Russell declares. "That's the only way in. She'll take you guys - I'm sure she knows you two are the ones who went through her little experiment. It's more doing than directing. You have those instructions to get you where you need to be, but after that, you have to find a way to terminate the project by any means necessary."

"Even if it means the queen has to die?" Clarke asks, and Bellamy's eyes dart from Russell's face to her.

"Even so," Russell agrees. "There cannot be any loose ends - there cannot be anything or anyone that presents any opportunity for the threat to come back."

"Get in, terminate the tests, and get out. But if the queen dies, what becomes of the kingdom? Do we just leave it in a mess?" Bellamy asks.

"If the situation gets messy," Russell says. "We'll take care of it."

Clarke looks about as assured as Bellamy feels, but they both nod.

"Good," Russell mutters.

"You'll be on a train to their nation tomorrow," Alex says, crossing his arms. "Request an audience with the queen."

"This sounds too easy," Clarke mutters.

"It is that easy, but not for long," Alex counters ominously. "You won't be able to communicate with us during this mission at all."

"What if there's an emergency?" Bellamy asks immediately.

"We have our sources," Russell says. "We'll be there, we promise."

Bellamy feels a little better, but Clarke's face is still skeptical. 

"We trust you two, alright? And please, be safe out there," Russell implores, giving Clarke a meaningful look. Clarke's cheeks take on a rosy tint, a small smile appearing on her features for just a second.

"We will," Bellamy promises.

"Take care of each other," Russell continues.

"We will," Clarke murmurs, looking right into Bellamy's eyes.

"Good," Russell says, nodding to everyone in the room. "Let's end this once and for all."

* * *

He barely feels the water anymore - his hand is braced against the wall of the shower and his eyes are closed, his body shaking as he holds back sobs.

All he sees is Clarke in the rain, the smiling, whole Not-Clarke, and all Bellamy feels is fear, because god, he was so  _scared-_

"Bellamy?" Clarke's voice pierces through his memories, pulling him a little closer towards reality. "You okay in there?"

The door of the shower is completely foggy, so it's hard to tell whether Clarke's in the bathroom or not.

"I'm fine," he says raggedly, trying to make his breathing sound less like wheezing gasps. "I'm okay."

There's a pause, and then through the sound of the shower, he thinks he hears the sound of clothes hitting the floor.

And then the door of the shower opens, letting in a gust of cold air and then - Clarke.

He tries to the best of his ability to keep his eyes on her face, and they stand there, Clarke's hair slowly getting completely soaked.

And then with a ragged breath, he steps closer and sets his hands on her waist, his fingers automatically moving of their own accord as if desperate to explore the expanse of skin. Clarke lets out a small sigh, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his.

Bellamy lowers his head and brushes his lips against her jaw, slowly backing her into the wall of the shower. "Do you want this?" he asks, his heart beating loud, drowning the sound of his voice.

"Yes," she breathes, her leg sliding along his to wrap around his waist. "Please."

Bellamy kisses her, open-mouthed and passionate, meeting her moans caused by the rolling of his hips with his own kisses.

"Bellamy," she breathes, arching her neck as Bellamy's lips seek to conquer it, conquer her. Her hands go up to tug on his wet curls, a silent demand, and Bellamy gives it all to her, pushes into her and sends both his and her senses into overdrive as he moves and moves, Clarke's head falling back against the wall, one of her wrists pinned to the wall by Bellamy's hand now, just the sound of his heartbeat and their uneven breathing and all those sounds Clarke's making-

 _"BELLAMY! Don't make me come in there!"_ Clarke yells from outside the bathroom, and Bellamy almost jumps and slips, narrowly avoiding cracking his head open by taking a step back to steady himself from the rude interruption of his thoughts.

"I'm, uh, I'm fine!" Bellamy calls.

"Are you sure?" Clarke sounds annoyed.

"Uh huh!" he yells. 

Bellamy swallows, and reaches out to turn the knob of the shower, turning the water ice-cold.

* * *

"Did you try to drown yourself in the shower or something?" Clarke asks from her spot on the couch, looking up from her book. Bellamy tilts his head a little, causing droplets of water to fall from his hair onto his t-shirt.

"Something like that," Bellamy says, and he knows he's probably blushing furiously. "What are you reading?" he asks, desperate for a change of subject.

Clarke holds up the book - still The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

"What's today's word?" Bellamy asks, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. Clarke leans forward, angling the book so Bellamy can see it better.

 

> **lachesism**
> 
> **_n._ the desire to be struck by disaster—to survive a plane crash, to lose everything in a fire, to plunge over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other.**

"Lachesism," Bellamy says, brushing his fingers over the word. "Bit of a depressing concept."

"I mean, I understand it," Clarke muses, taking the book back. "Those six years after Praimfaya, I just felt-"

"Incomplete," Bellamy finishes.

"That goes without saying," Clarke counters. "I only had Madi, my best friends were in space, my other friends were underground, of course I felt incomplete. But other than that, I just - I needed for something to happen. I missed my old life. The crazy, fucked up life I lost so much sleep over. I missed that. I missed having something to do, I missed being needed."

"Madi needed you," Bellamy supplies.

"I guess," Clarke murmurs. "But Madi could take care of herself if she really needed to, that much I knew. I guess I was just there to fill in all the gaps in her life. Teach her things she won't even remember when she's got a gun or a sword in her hand."

Bellamy sighs. "You were there for her, Clarke. That's more than enough."

"Not anymore," Clarke says with a bittersweet smile, the sad parody of a parent realizing their child has grown up.

"She still needs you. You were always needed. And no, it's not selfish for you to want to be needed," Bellamy adds noting the expression on her face.

Clarke shrugs. "I don't know, Bellamy."

Bellamy reaches out and takes her hand. "You are such a good person, Clarke. You deserve so much more than you have."

She looks at him and for a second there's a flash of that old fear in her eyes, and maybe now she's remembering something else, some horrible memory from her experience in the Speculo.

Bellamy looks away.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. 

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for," Bellamy says gently. "And either way, I'll always forgive you."

"Your persistence when it comes to forgiving me ruined friendships," Clarke mutters.

"Raven will come around," Bellamy murmurs. "Clarke, why didn't you ever tell me about Echo?"

"You wouldn't have believed me," Clarke says, her mouth set in a grim smile. "There really was no point."

"You could've fought back."

"I would've, if I didn't deserve it, Bellamy."

"You - you did  _not_ deserve it," Bellamy snaps, his hands tightening on Clarke's own. "Don't you dare ever say you deserved that."

Clarke's wandering fingers on his knuckles soothe his temper just a bit. "If you say so."

* * *

_Clarke's face is pale with fear and dread, her disheveled blonde hair falling over one eye. She's lying on the ground, her elbow pressing into the hard floor._

_Her blood is darker than the night, trickling from her nose and the side of her face._

_As Bellamy watches, a glowing gold crown with lethally sharp points, dripping with red blood, is set on Clarke's head with shaking hands._

_The red blood dripping from the crown splatters onto Clarke's face and mixes with her own._

_Clarke closes her eyes and bites her lip so hard that it starts to bleed, allowing herself just one moment, just one._

_There is blood everywhere, staining her face and the crown._

_The symbol of the Heda is pressed between Clarke's eyebrows, somehow untouched by the blood._

_And then she opens her eyes, and she stands, and Bellamy's vision goes blank._

* * *

_Her hair is just a little shorter but still as straight, and Clarke faces him but cannot see him, her blue eyes blazing. She raises a gun, pointed right towards Bellamy's face, and he steps out of the way and turns so he can watch her from the side._

_She's wearing black armor-like clothing, her golden hair loose and blowing in some phantom wind._

_She fires, and there's a blast of gold, taking over Bellamy's entire vision._

_He's thrown by the blast, and he sees her silhouette through the light, her arms outstretched as she's thrown back as well, her body bathed in light, what seems to be tendrils of gold and blue and red and black._

_The golden locks of hair are flying, and everything is happening in slow-motion, and the ropes of light move to collectively coil around her arms and fingers, bending and twisting._

_To Clarke's will._

_Because somehow Bellamy just knows - he knows she's controlling it._

_And suddenly, he's right in front of her, and her pupils and irises are gone, and there's just a void of glowing gold where her eyes should be, lines of that same color spiraling through her face as if it rushes through the veins beneath her skin._

_Clarke lips part just slightly, the gold lines fading slightly but never leaving._

_The air around her is charged with electricity - he can actually see tiny red and blue sparks weaving through her hair._

_"They call her the Commander," a voice murmurs, and the image of Clarke suspended before him explodes in a dazzling array of black and blue and red and-_

_Gold._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big spook  
> do bellamy's dreams tell the future?????  
> also, where are you guys from?


	22. I'm So Scared About The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy are on the hunt for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a huge ass snowstorm outside

The kingdom is just as beautiful as the city of Eligius.

His heart aches when he sees Clarke, curled up on her seat in their little train compartment, the golden light of the suns setting illuminating her peaceful, sleeping face.

The last time he felt this sort realization of beauty, this peace, was that summer evening with Echo, but even now, that doesn't compare to the warmth of the suns seeping through the windows and settling on his face, the feel of his fingers entangled with Clarke's on the table in front of them.

Even here, when they pass into Aurora Nation, there is glass everywhere, but the city is not as tightly packed as Eligius. 

In the distance, Bellamy can see an endless sheet of blue - the ocean.

The train comes to a stop with a sudden jerk, and Bellamy's glad standing isn't an option for trains designated for long journeys.

Clarke's eyes open, her eyes dark. She pulls her fingers away from Bellamy's gently and stifles a yawn behind her hand.

"You should've slept a bit longer," Bellamy murmurs, grabbing his backpack.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Fucking Clarke Griffin.

It's warmer here, near the ocean.

They stride up the security checkpoint, where a bored-looking woman with flaming red hair surveys them.

"Names," the woman says.

"Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin," Clarke answers, tilting her chin towards Bellamy as she says the former.

The woman looks up. "We knew you'd come."

Well, that's that. 

* * *

Another short train ride later, they're approaching a huge architectural giant of glass, double helixes and blossoms of metal.

"The Queen will be waiting at the front to receive you," one of their escorts say, eyeing them with a look Bellamy doesn't particularly. He and Clarke step off the train, making their way towards what he thinks is the entrance.

A woman with hair darker than midnight, wearing black clothing not unlike what he'd seen Clarke wear in his last dream

_(about the gold remember the gold in her eyes and her hair and her hands)_

of her. The woman turns around, and Bellamy can see a gold crown set into her hair.

The same crown Clarke was wearing.

Bellamy blinks once, twice, three times.

"Something in your eye?" Clarke mutters to him as they approach the queen.

He shakes his head.

The closer they get, the more Bellamy sees of the queen, and he deduces that she cannot be much older than them, her pale cheeks glowing with youth.

"Bellamy - Clarke," the queen says, nodding towards them. Bellamy nods back, but Clarke just stays deathly still, her mouth set in a hard line.

"We know you've been waiting for us to show up," Bellamy says, attempting to ease the tension.

"Yeah, I was pretty sure," the queen says, her dainty Asian features twisted into something like amusement. "For what reason, though, I wouldn't know."

"Probably not the reason you think," Bellamy says with his signature smirk. The queen doesn't seem to be someone who is swayed easily, but he can tell she is not immune to his own charm. 

"Tell me, then," she says, matching his smile with her own, and Bellamy thinks he sees Clarke fighting a smile.

"Whatever it is you need from our heads," Bellamy says, taking a step closer to her. A few guards behind the queen tense, stepping forward in case he attempts to hurt her. "We'll provide it. We're saying we're here to help you with your research, your Highness."

The queen's eyes pass over Clarke, then settle back on Bellamy. "Call me Gemma," she says, holding out a hand, which Bellamy takes and presses a light kiss to her knuckles.

Judging by the look in Gemma's dark eyes, not unlike his own, Bellamy realizes he's just started playing a very dangerous game.

* * *

"So, what is it exactly that you're trying to do?" Clarke asks as they step into a lab rather similar to Becca Pramheda's.

"The Speculo, the portal of sorts you guys went through, creates a universe entirely woven with the threads of your own thoughts. It gave you the capacity to anticipate future outcomes," Gemma murmurs.

"I didn't see the future, though," Bellamy chimes in. "I just saw some other world with people I knew who were actually just alternates of themselves, living completely different lives."

"Unusual," Gemma says quietly. "And you, Clarke?"

Clarke's pinky links with Bellamy's and squeezes tight. It's kind of scary how strong her smallest finger is.

"Something like that," Clarke says, her voice surprisingly even.

"Of course, we'll have to go back through your memories and try to analyze everything that's happened. With lives as connected as yours, I'm sure there was something important that appeared in both of your worlds," Gemma muses, and Clarke's pinky squeezes his just a little tighter. Bellamy can actually see the color drain out of her face.

"I don't see the relations between all that," Bellamy says, trying to give Clarke a reassuring squeeze back. "And how would you access our memories?"

"Don't worry, we have all the necessary technology," the queen says, like she's commenting on the weather.

Clarke releases his hand.

"I know there's a way we can find a way to anticipate the next move, know the next choice. Your experience proves that."

Bellamy crosses his arms. "What if that's more of the Speculo than our capacity?"

"I designed the thing, Bellamy, I would know what it's capable of," Gemma says. "You, on the other hand-" she places a hand on his bicep. "Are a little harder to figure out."

It's a dangerous comment, and a thinly veiled threat - he and Clarke are nothing more than toys for her to play with.

"Of course," Clarke says, her voice sweet. "That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"That's what you're here for," Gemma agrees. "You wouldn't mind starting now, would you?"

 _It's not like we have much of a choice,_ Bellamy thinks. 

"Start - what are you gonna do?" Clarke asks.

"Oh, Clarke," Gemma says gently, "it's all about your memory. I know both of you spent quite a long time missing - there's so much to go through. The answer could be anywhere."

_The answer._

They have to keep 'the answer,' whatever that may be, away from her. 

But how can they, if neither Bellamy nor Clarke knows what it is?

He hopes he can spot it before Gemma does.

"Well," Gemma says, almost cheerfully. "Clarke, we can start with you-"

A man wearing jeans and a dark sweater with a white lab coat thrown over it walks over to Gemma and murmurs something in her ear, making her eyes flash with some emotion Bellamy can't quite read.

"Well," she says, when the scientist has finished his silent rant. "Turns out we'll have to start this tomorrow. It has gotten quite late after all. You guys want one section of the living quarters or two?"

"One," Clarke says, her pinky linking with his again.

The queen raises an eyebrow. "Of course."

* * *

There are two bedrooms in the set of rooms they've been assigned, so he doesn't see Clarke at all after dinner.

But he hears her, late at night, through the thin walls. A pained yelp from the other side of his wall, a thick silence, and then sobbing, sounding so painful it makes Bellamy's chest ache. He hears something shatter against the wall, a murmured curse, and then a gasp of pain. 

Half falling out of bed, Bellamy makes his way towards his door and then Clarke's bedroom, pushing the door open.

Clarke sits on the bed with her legs pulled to her knees. The lamp beside her bed is on, the only light in the room because the window is angled just so that the moonlight cannot get in. 

Bellamy steps closer, noting the broken glass cup on the floor, and then seeing the rivulets of black blood wrapping around Clarke's fingers like 

_(the lights)_

 dark rings.

"Did I wake you?" she asks hoarsely. "Sorry."

Bellamy comes to sit on his knees in front of her on the bed, taking her bloody hand within his own. He will never really get used to the color of her blood, the dark stains it leaves on his own hands like ink.

"You shouldn't have tried to clean up the glass on your own," he says quietly.

"It's just glass," Clarke murmurs.

Their eyes meet, and she just looks so  _afraid._

"Why didn't you ever tell me you needed to sleep with the light on?" Bellamy asks.

"There was moonlight in your room back home," Clarke says dismissively, trying to pull her hands out of Bellamy's grasp, but he holds on a little tighter when he sees her wince in pain.

"Let me clean this up," Bellamy says gently, wrapping an arm around her waist to place his hand in the small of her back so he can pull her towards him.

"It's fine, it looks worse than it is," Clarke says, but Bellamy doesn't yield to her.

"Stop it," he says, pulling her body to his. "Stop."

She's silent until they reach the bathroom, Clarke bracing her black hands against the edge of the sink. Bellamy stands behind her, holding some gauze he found in one of the cabinets. 

Her eyes dart up to her expression, taking in the gaunt face and dark eyes. Her bottom lip shakes for just a moment, her blonde hair falling in a curtain around her face when she bows her head.

"Hey," Bellamy murmurs as he puts the gauze on the counter, his voice rough with sleep. "C'mere."

She turns slowly, tentatively fitting herself to his body and wrapping his arms around his neck, rising on her toes so she can press her cheek to his.

"It's going to be okay," he murmurs into her hair, rubbing her back in steady circles. "It's going to be okay, Clarke," and then she's crying again, her whole body shaking against his as earthquakes shift the tectonic plates of her very being, her tears soaking into his shirt like rain. 

"I don't want to do this," she sobs into his neck. "I don't want to do this anymore."

He knows she isn't just talking about being in the kingdom.

"I know, Princess, I know," he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into her jaw. "I know."

She cries some more, apologizing and crying and shaking and one would think that maybe, when she finally stops, Clarke is done, and Clarke has gotten the release she needed.

But he knows her better than that.

He knows her tears are not even a quarter of what she feels, not even a tenth, a millionth, a trillionth, not even a significant piece at all.

* * *

"Get some sleep, Clarke," he murmurs, reaching over to her side of the bed. 

"I can't," she whispers back, taking his outstretched hand. "I can't-"

"I'll ask her to go through my memories first, then," he says, rolling over onto his side to face her. There are tears on Clarke's face - she's been crying this whole time.

She moves the pillow that separates them away, and Bellamy lets himself wrap his limbs around her, protecting her.

"I shouldn't have done this," she says shakily, her bandaged fingers fisting his shirt.

Bellamy doesn't know what to say.

"Sleep," he commands gently.

She does, and he feels her trembling against him in the depths of her nightmares, but she does not wake once.

* * *

"Gemma," he says, blinking the last traces of sleep from his eyes. "Let me go first."

"I don't see the problem with working with Clarke first," Gemma says simply, tying her black hair back into an elaborate braid. Her crown is nowhere to be seen this morning.

 _Of course you don't._ "I think my experience will be of more use to you. I mean," Bellamy says, leaning closer with a slight smile. "I don't know how this whole thing works. Clarke and I show up here, ready to willingly participate in your tests. Weird circumstances, hmm?"

"Your point?" Gemma asks.

"I'm just saying - my suggestions are entirely to help you."

"You know," Gemma says, turning around and powering on a strange looking table. "I was wondering why you came. Who voluntarily comes to get their head taken apart and analyzed? Not that it's a bad thing, Bellamy. It is for the greater good. But people rarely experience decisions of such clarity."

"I know how to choose the right side of a war," Bellamy says, crossing his arms.

"War?" the queen murmurs, looking amused. "Who said anything about war?"

"War is a universal language," he says, vaguely noting that he's quoting a movie he saw on the Ring. "I know one, or the beginnings of one, when I see it."

"You've been with Eligius, haven't you?" Gemma asks, and Bellamy tries not to ramble.

"How else would I know the right choice? Which is, of course, to join you."

Gemma nods. "What makes you think I'll find your brain more interesting than your companion's?"

"Let's just say," Bellamy says, plastering on his signature Blake smirk. "Where I've _been_ is a lot more interesting. Clarke here just saw much of the same thing over and over."

He doesn't know whether that's a lie or not, but he hopes the queen will believe it.  

"Oh, Bellamy," the queen says. "I know exactly what you guys saw."

"Then why do you need to go through our memories again?" Bellamy asks.

"I need to understand," Gemma implores, a strange light in her eyes. "You can help me there. Everything has more than one meaning, don't you think?"

Bellamy bites his tongue.

"If you're really so worried about how she'll react to it," Gemma says slyly. "You can relive her memories. Help a friend out."

"I think that's a great idea," Clarke says from behind them. She must've just come in.

It has honestly got to be one of the strangest situations Bellamy's ever found himself in. This mission itself - the thought and idea of what he's here to do seems too crazy and far fetched to actually be logical.

"Nice of you to join us," Gemma says with a dark smile. Let's get started."

* * *

He and Clarke sit face to face, electrodes on their foreheads and wires between them.

"Look for something that appears in both of your worlds. Names, faces, people - other than each other, of course," Gemma says, flipping switches. 

"Hope your world didn't suck," Clarke says quietly, and then she gasps and falls back against the chair, her eyes closing.

"What did you do to her?" Bellamy yells.

"She'll be fine," Gemma murmurs ominously, before Bellamy's vision goes black. 

* * *

_It's raining._

_Bellamy lies in the dirt, in-_

_In Polis._

_He turns his head._

_Clarke is also on the ground, tilting her head up to the lightning-streaked sky._

_There's another strike of lightning, making Bellamy's vision go completely white for a minute, and when he can see again, he's sitting in a small room, a man in a dark suit sitting behind an immaculate wooden desk. Clarke is sitting on the other side of the desk, her short blonde hair matted with dirt._

_The man is drumming his fingers on the table._

_"You can make this easier, Clarke," the man says quietly._

_Clarke doesn't reply._

_"Clarke?" Bellamy asks. Well, the words form on his mouth, but no sound comes out._

_The fingers keep drumming, and Bellamy feels so dizzy -_

_"Go to hell," Clarke murmurs, and all the light disappears._

_He opens his eyes, and he sees Clarke standing in a beautiful green forest, a gun in her hands._

_She's sobbing._

_"Don't make me do this," she cries. "Please."_

_"You have to," a voice says, and Bellamy realizes it's his own voice, and he turns his head to see himself on his knees on the ground, the target of Clarke's gun._

_"No," she chokes. "No."_

_"DO IT!" Bellamy sees himself scream, and Clarke pulls the trigger with a loud sob._

_Clarke drops the gun, and Bellamy himself falls, blood pouring from a hole in his head._

_Clarke's eyes are closed._

_He closes his own eyes._

_When he opens them again, Clarke is standing in front of the tower in Polis, holding a sword. Her hair is tied back into a plethora of elaborate braids, and she stares straight ahead._

_"What will it be this time, Bellamy Blake?" she murmurs to herself. There's a haunted look in her eyes that wasn't there the last time he saw her - some time has passed since she'd shot him in the forest._

_Bellamy turns, and sees himself again, strangely alive._

_"Ready when you are," other Bellamy says to Clarke with a small smile, but Clarke looks like she'll never smile again._

_Clarke steps forward, her free hand curling into a fist._

_"Please," she whispers. "I can't do it anymore."_

_There are tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face._

_"You will do it as many times as you need to," the Bellamy who isn't Bellamy says, and the real Bellamy himself is struck by how cruel his own voice sounds to his ears._

_Clarke lets out a broken little sigh._

_"Do it," Bellamy commands. "Do it or I'll do it myself and they'll make you watch."_

_Clarke's arm shakes as she raises the sword._

_The other Bellamy leans forward and cups her face._

_"Please," he whispers. "I'm always here."_

_Clarke nods, still crying as she plunges the sword through his heart._

_She holds him long after he has died, and Bellamy backs away, his vision blurred._

_He closes his eyes again._

_It's a terrifying cycle - Clarke, always holding a weapon, always forced to kill him. He catches bits and pieces of her in between, holding pills in her hand and sobbing on a bed and holding broken glass to her own wrists, black blood everywhere, machines beeping as she's always yanked from the cusp of death only to cause it herself._

_And the man always returns, sitting next to her, drumming his fingers on every flat surface he can find._

_It's Clarke killing him, and soon it is also Clarke not being able to save him._

_He watches his own fingers slide past Clarke's, his body disappearing under the unforgiving surface of churning seas, and Clarke screams and screams and she tries to launch herself over the boat but she's held back by other's arms._

_He opens his eyes just one more time, and Clarke's sitting in front of a piano, her fingers dancing over the keys and Bellamy wonders how can she can see what she's doing when she has tears in her eyes but she keeps playing, that same man leaning against the piano and watching her hands._

_His vision goes black._

_Clarke's in a bunker of some sort, and then the other Bellamy walks in through a door, a gun at his hip._

_Clarke backs away, her eyes wide._

_But she's not afraid for him anymore - she's afraid of him._

_Bellamy watches himself walk over to her and envelops her in a hug._

_"It's okay," other Bellamy whispers in Clarke's ear. "It's okay."_

_There's a deafening gunshot, and Clarke's body goes limp against his, blood blooming from her gut._

_Bellamy's holding the gun._

_And he realizes with horrifying clarity - the tables have turned, and Bellamy is the one who kills her._

_Every_

_Single_

_Time._

_He poisons her and shoots her and slits her throat and stabs her and she dies over and over and over but she always wakes up, her eyes hollow and her body shaking._

_And then one day, she wakes up back in the forest near the dropship._

_In the middle of battle - with Grounders._

_A knife slashes across her gut - the same place she was bleeding when she returned to Bellamy in the real world._

_Everything else fades._

_She runs, and she finds the body of Bellamy Blake lying on the ground._

_His leg is horrifically bent - a side of his face is drenched in blood._

_An arrow is sticking out from his stomach._

_He's dying, and Clarke knows that._

_She kneels next to the boy's body, cups his face._

_"Hey, Princess," Bellamy hears himself say weakly, his voice rough and eternally sad._

_"Just had to get yourself injured, didn't you?" Clarke murmurs, studiously ignoring the blood pouring from her side._

_"Couldn't let you take that arrow, Princess," Bellamy breathes, blood trickling from a corner of his mouth._

_"You took it for me?" Clarke asks, her tears splashing onto his shirt his jacket, his bloody face._

_"Someone has to keep you alive," Bellamy breathes._

_"But what about you?" Clarke says between tears._

_Bellamy's hands move up to her hip to clasp the hilt of her knife._

_"No," she murmurs._

_"You can't save me," Bellamy murmurs. "But you can take away the pain."_

_"I can't take away the pain, Bellamy," Clarke sobs._

_"You already do," Bellamy says quietly. "Do it one last time."_

_Clarke presses her head to his chest._

_"Deep in the meadow," she sings, still crying. "Under the willow..."_

_Her hand closes on the hilt of her knife._

_"A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your eyes_

_And when they open, the sun will rise..."_

_She pulls the knife out._

_"Here it's safe, and here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you."_

_"I love you, too," Bellamy murmurs, and falls silent._

_She slides her knife gently into his heart._

_There are no more words between them._

_Clarke stands, clutching the gash in her side._

_She turns and she starts to walk towards the dropship, miraculously untouched by the arrows and bullets flying all around her._

_She steps into the dropship, and everything fades from green to white._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys Alex Hall looks like Theseus Scamander from Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them: The Crimes of Grindelwald  
> thats what i envision him looking like anyway  
> also  
> yes  
> i did include a song from the hunger games. fight me.  
> soooo, we finally know what happened to Clarke in the Speculo. What's next?  
> comments and kudos are always welcome :)


	23. And I Want To Talk To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke are in a race against the monarch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean this is kinda short but idk lol

He wakes in a soft bed - his own back in his rooms at the palace.

_Clarke._

"Clarke?" he asks. There's no answer.

He steps out of the room, sees her sitting at the desk with a pen in her hand.

He's achingly reminded of when she was making the list of the people who would survive Praimfaya in the Ark.

He approaches her quietly - he doesn't want to startle her.

"What day is it?" she asks when he reaches the desk.

"Wednesday," he murmurs.

"Good," she says briskly. "Here's what I suggest. We stay here every Monday through Friday, go back to our sector on the weekends. Gemma wouldn't be suspicious if we went back. Russell updated the PTM - Planetary Territory Map. So, if the queen wants to see where we're going, she'll just see us in Wonkru's territory."

"Our sector is awfully close to Eligius, though," Bellamy says.

"Parts of the kingdom border Eligius, too. The neutral territory doesn't separate all of it. You'll be the one to pitch the idea to the queen."

"Why me?" he asks obstinately.

"Because the queen clearly likes you," Clarke mutters, an underlying tone to her voice that Bellamy can't quite understand.

Bellamy nods. 

There's an oddly awkward silence.

"Clarke-" he begins.

"You need to cut your hair. And shave," Clarke says, and Bellamy just can't understand why she's being so business-like, so distant.

Was it because of what she had seen?

"Okay," he concedes. "Okay."

* * *

Her touch is soft and loving, the way she cups his jaw and the way she runs his hand over his shortened curls.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

 _She's beautiful,_ Bellamy thinks, every time her blue eyes meet his own. 

He's rarely ever been so struck by her beauty, every single part of her. He loves the way her fingers feel in his hair, loves the way her own hair brushes his face when she leans forward.

He wants to feel the golden strands in between his own fingers, the contours of her lips.

He wants to wake up every morning and roll over to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, to ease the lines between her eyebrows, to make her smile.

Bellamy imagines his dark hands against her pale skin, his fingers against the soft curve of her waist.

He wants her - he needs her.

He

~~_(loves)_ ~~

likes her.

They lapse into silence as Clarke finishes her work. 

* * *

 He finds her later at night in her room, sitting on the windowsill and staring out the window.

Bellamy joins her on the other side of it, his knees in between hers and her knees in between his.

"I'm not mad, Bell," she says gently. "About what I saw."

"Clarke," he murmurs.

"But why?" she asks. "You had Echo."

He knows exactly what she's talking about.

"I-"

"I'm glad it was good there," she murmurs. 

"Clarke, come on," Bellamy says quietly.

"We could have had that, Bellamy. We could've taken drives on coastal roads, kissed in cars and made lunch for each other. We could've had that."

Bellamy sighs.

"But not with me," she says, leaning forward. "That could never have been me."

"Why not?" Bellamy asks. "What, because she was happy?"

"Exactly because she was happy!" Clarke snaps. "She was happy because she was good. She wasn't a murderer, she wasn't the Commander of Death, she was  _good._ You wanted her, because she was..."

Clarke trails off.

"Because she wasn't me," she murmurs. "Hell, she was everything I could never,  _ever_ be. And you were happy."

"I was happy because I was with you!" he snaps.

"That - was not me," Clarke says tersely. "That isn't me." She closes her eyes and leans back.

She's quiet.

"Echo's good," Clarke mumbles.

"Good," Bellamy scoffs. "Because she beat the shit out of you for doing the right thing every day."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the fucking right thing, Bellamy! I should've come back for you, and if I wasn't so damn arrogant I would've!"

"But you wanted to," Bellamy says weakly. "Didn't you?"

"I don't know," she murmurs. "I was so angry."

"For a perfectly good reason!"

"You can't just keep trying to convince yourself of that!" Clarke snaps. "What you had with her in the other world-"

"What, you're gonna tell me it was nothing?" Bellamy asks.

"It was, Bellamy!"

"Do you love me?" Bellamy asks suddenly.

"Do you?" Clarke counters, opening her eyes.

Does he?

Is he in love with-

No - she could never love him back, not after all that's happened.

"Answer the goddamn question, Clarke."

"Of course I love you!" Clarke yells. "You're my best friend, how could I not?"

"You know that's not what I asked," Bellamy mutters.

"Then  _what,_ Bellamy?"

"What you saw, in my memories," Bellamy says quietly. "Would you have ever wanted that?"

"You wouldn't have," Clarke mutters.

"Clarke, please," Bellamy says.

"Damn it, Bellamy," Clarke breathes.

"Clarke, just tell me!" 

"I am not in love with you!" she yells. "Are you happy now?"

Bellamy tries, he tries so hard, to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

"Wait," Clarke murmurs, realization lighting up her eyes. "Bellamy, are you-"

"I'm fine," he says.

"That's not what I was going to ask," Clarke murmurs. She leans forward, and wipes away the tears that have slipped past his eyelids with the pad of her thumb.

And then with the other hand, she grabs his wrist, holding it tightly in her grasp.

"Tell me you don't love me," she says quietly. "Honestly tell me that you're not in love with me."

"If I told you that," Bellamy breathes. "I wouldn't be honest."

She releases his wrist. "Oh, god," she breathes, sliding off the windowsill. 

"Clarke-"

"I never thought you'd  _lie_ to me about something like that," Clarke says.

_Damn it._

"Damn it, Bellamy!" Clarke yells, and she just looks so agitated, it hurts his heart.

"I'm not - do you seriously think I'm lying?"

"You're definitely not telling the truth!" Clarke replies.

"I-"

He stops.

"You don't ever have to lie to make me feel better about myself," she snaps.

"I'm not lying-"

"Really?" Her tone is dripping with barely contained rage. 

Then she takes a deep breath, calming down, and Bellamy knows she's offering him a chance to admit his mistake, to go back, to forget about it.

"You're right," he says gruffly, wiping another tear away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to say."

"It's okay," Clarke says softly, joining him back on the windowsill. "You just - you don't have to lie to me. Ever. Especially not to make me happy."

"Alright."

She leans forward and takes his hand.

"Can we just forget about this?" she asks quietly.

"Of course," Bellamy murmurs. "Of course."

* * *

"You clearly didn't react very well to what you saw," Gemma says, looking disappointed.

"It was an overwhelming experience," Bellamy mutters. "I'll find something."

"We'll find something," Clarke adds. 

"And we'd also like to return home for the weekends. As an afterthought," Bellamy adds.

Gemma looks at them with a critical look. "Done."

Clarke arches an eyebrow. "Good. I'm going to talk to Bellamy."

At some point, she'd hooked one of her fingers into one of the belt loops of his jeans, and she gives him a slight tug and a meaningful look. Bellamy gives her a nearly imperceptible nod, an angelic smile for the queen, and he steps away with Clarke.

"We have to find it before her," Clarke murmurs quietly when they walk over to a deserted corner of the lab. "I don't understand why she needs it, but we need to find out."

"You think her reason might be a cover for something else?" Bellamy asks, leaning closer.

"I hope not," Clarke murmurs. "Another reason means more motivation. We can't have her on our tail."

"Then let's talk," Bellamy says, pulling her over to a desk. There's a stack of empty notebooks and a cup full of pens, so she grabs one of each and opens the notebook to a blank page.

"I need you to list every important thing in your world," Clarke says, clicking the pen.

"I mean, I don't know what counts as important," Bellamy replies, leaning forward. 

"Details," Clarke clarifies. "Things that were crucial to whatever general objective you had. Which was to get out of there. Important details, Bellamy."

"Right," he murmurs. "Uh - Second Dawn."

"Obviously," Clarke says, writing it down. "Go on."

"Russell Hall, uh, Proxima Centauri B, Intel mission..."

He stops. "Is your middle name Cordelia?" he asks her.

Clarke gives him an odd look. "It's Cordelia Genevieve."

"You have two middle names?" Bellamy asks in disbelief. "That's weird." 

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Keep going."

"Uh, the Speculo, obviously. Thelonious Jaha. Damn it, I can't-"

"Think, Bellamy," Clarke murmurs. "Stop thinking small. What's an important thing?"

_Light and Dark._

"The towers," he breathes. "The Towers. The government towers. Lux and Tenebris."

Clarke writes it down then leans back, her brow furrowed.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I've heard that somewhere, and it wasn't in your memories," Clarke murmurs.

"Lux and Tenebris?"

"Yeah," she says, squeezing her temples.

"Your turn," Bellamy declares, taking the notebook and the pen. "Only list things that weren't in my memories."

"Right," she says, blinking. "Xander Creed-"

"What did you just say?" Bellamy asks suddenly.

"Xander Creed," she says, her throat bobbing as she swallows. 

How could he have missed it? The man in Clarke's memories - it was Xander Creed.

"Okay," he says quietly. "More."

She lists a bunch of other names and places Bellamy's never heard up, occasionally catching the name Eligius, but nothing else. He writes them all down, anyway - they seem more closely related to real life than the details of Bellamy's memories do.

"You two about done?" Gemma asks, walking up to the desk.

"Can you send both of us into someone's memories?" Clarke asks.

"Yeah," the queen says. "Whose memories?"

"Bellamy's," Clarke replies, tilting her chin towards him. "We haven't found anything yet, but maybe if he goes back, we might find something."

Gemma regards Clarke with a cold, calculating stare, a look he's seen in Clarke's eyes more than once.

Of course, it looks a lot cooler when Clarke has that look.

"Alright," Gemma murmurs. "Come with me."

* * *

_They find each other just outside the towers. Clarke walks over to Bellamy, and then they look at themselves standing outside the doors of the dark tower._

_They watch as Other Clarke grabs Bellamy and kisses him, and the real Clarke raises an eyebrow._

_"I, um," Bellamy stutters._

_Then to his absolute surprise, Clarke laughs and jams her elbows into his ribs. "Time to go."_

_Her smile is gone as soon as it came, and Bellamy wishes it would stay just a bit longer._

_Bellamy's forced to watch it all happen again, and yet he and the real Clarke do nothing - they just observe._

_"I remember this," the real Clarke says, when the other one leaves Bellamy in the hallway. "I was there, and then - I wasn't."_

_"I know," he says quietly. He doesn't say anymore._

_When the other Clarke dies, Bellamy closes his eyes._

_"Bellamy," Clarke says, taking his arm._

_And then there's nothing._

* * *

He wakes up gasping and screaming. Gemma is there, watching him with clinical curiosity.

"Bellamy," Clarke breathes, getting out of her chair and coming to him. "Bellamy, look at me, I'm right here, see?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gemma leave.

"I thought you died," he says quietly, looking up into her eyes, so real and blue and alive. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm obviously not," she says, touching her nose to his with a small smile. "I'm not dead."

He leans forward and hugs her, halting sobs spilling from his mouth.

"Don't ever leave me again," he demands. "Don't you ever leave."

"I won't, I promise," she murmurs into his hair. He can feel her eyelashes tickling his cheek when she blinks. "I won't leave you."

 _I am already in love with you,_ he thinks.  _You're too late._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay feelings  
> gimme those comments and kudos please :)


	24. Are You Lost Or Incomplete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy worries about Clarke's mental and physical health even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a thicc chapter you're welcome

"I'm gonna ask you again," Bellamy says quietly from his seat at the desk in their room.

"Ask me what?" Clarke replies, crossing her arms.

"Are you in love with me?"

"I gave you my answer," Clarke says, looking away from him.

"Was it an honest one?" Bellamy continues, leaning back.

"Was your answer honest?" Clarke says suddenly, coming to the desk and leaning forward to set her elbows on it in front of him. It's a terrifying conversation - Bellamy feels like he's watching a train leave its station while knowing he's supposed to be on it, not being able to do a single thing.

"I'll be honest when you will," he says, trying to mask his apprehension.

Clarke's eyebrows knit together, distress seeping into her features. "Why are you being so pushy about it?" she asks.

"Forget it," he murmurs. "I don't know."

Clarke rests her hands on the desk, and Bellamy notices that they're shaking a little. He takes her smaller hands within his own.

"How long have your hands been shaking?" he asks quietly. Clarke snatches her fingers away from his.

"Not long."

Once again, Bellamy isn't sure if she's lying or not. He hates how unfamiliar she's become. He hates how it isn't BellamyAndClarke anymore, but just Bellamy and Clarke.

He sighs and touches her knuckles with two fingers, and it's agonizing when he withdraws them.

"Xander Creed," Clarke says, clearing her throat. "That's the only real similarity between our memories. The only solid connection."

"Yeah," he agrees. "But what does it mean for Gemma? Is Xander Creed even real?"

Clarke smiles a little, not a real one, no, he hadn't seen a real one in a long time - but it's there. "Guess we should find out."

* * *

Gemma goes through their memories herself, keeping Bellamy and Clarke unconscious the whole time. 

Bellamy wakes with a horrible sense of dread twisting his insides. 

"I have everything I need," Gemma says decisively, once Clarke's eyes snap open. "I need to run some different tests. And then you guys can be on your way back home tomorrow."

"What sort of tests?" Clarke asks, and Bellamy longs to reach over and take her hand.

"Nothing harmful, Clarke," the queen says, her voice annoyingly condescending. "We won't even start the bigger ones today."

"Bigger ones," Clarke mutters darkly. 

"Well, what are you starting with?" Bellamy asks.

"Blood tests," Gemma says simply, taking out two syringes with terrifyingly long needles. He sees Clarke's eyes go straight to the needles, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides.

Bellamy wonders how the queen will react to the nightblood.

"Alright," Clarke says, her voice slightly strained. She holds out her arm, her eyes burning with a blazing defiance. 

Gemma raises an eyebrow, withdrawing a tight rubber band and tying it around Clarke's upper arm. Gemma's movements are not gentle - Bellamy knows Clarke will have bruises on her arm, and the thought sends a burning flash of rage through his head. Gemma puts the needle down and looks for numbing supplies, but then Clarke seizes the needle and shoves into one of her veins with a small, sharp inhale.

"Jesus, Clarke, what the hell?" Bellamy asks suddenly, rushing over to her. He watches the tube fill with black blood, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the queen watching in subdued wonder.

"Your blood," Gemma whispers. "It's different."

"And you have all weekend to take it apart," Clarke replies, pulling the needle out of her arm and handing it the queen.

"Of course," Gemma mutters, looking directly into Clarke's eyes. "I'll get Bellamy's blood. You can go ahead and leave."

"Not going anywhere without him," Clarke says with a quirk of an eyebrow.

The queen rolls her eyes, and it's odd, how she doesn't even really seem to be a queen without her crown.

On the other hand, Clarke-

"Alright," Gemma says, interrupting his thoughts. She ties the rubber band around his arm with more care than she tied Clarke's, and the blood sampling is quick work.

Bellamy sighs, running his finger over the small bandage the queen had put on the inside of his elbow. 

"I'll see you in a few days," Gemma murmurs, touching his shoulder.

* * *

"She said she had everything she needed," Bellamy mutters, working his way through the twisting corridors of the palace.

"She was lying," Clarke replies.

"How do you know?"

"Think of it this way," Clarke murmurs, making a sharp turn, almost causing Bellamy to run into her. "There was an unspoken question -'did you get everything you need?' To which, she responded, 'I have everything I need' - an unspoken yes. Verbal/nonverbal disconnect - she turned her head to the side as if she was saying no."

"A little far fetched," Bellamy says.

"Yeah, but that's not the only thing," Clarke mutters. "She was blinking just a little bit too much. Trying to convince me she wasn't holding eye contact to hide a lie."

"What's the lie, though?" Bellamy asks, taking out the small key that unlocks their room. "She  _doesn't_ have everything she needs, or-"

"I don't know," Clarke says, lacing her fingers together as she paces around the room. "It's all so  _confusing..."_

She keeps pacing, twisting the fingers of one hand with the other hand.

"Hey, hey," Bellamy murmurs, walking over to her and setting his hands on her shoulders. Her back is to him, and she jumps a little when he touches her.

But she doesn't move away, and that counts for something.

"What's wrong?" he asks gently. "You've been really worked up lately."

"Nothing's wrong," she mutters.

Bellamy starts rubbing the space between her shoulder blades with his thumbs. She relaxes slightly, tipping her head back a little.

"I know you're lying," Bellamy says with a sigh, not pausing in his movements. He understands to some degree that this is wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this.

Clarke, obviously having more common sense than him, whirls around and faces him. She's still twisting her fingers, so hard that there are white marks on her palms. Bellamy grabs her hands, brushing his thumbs over them, trying to soothe her.

"Something's up, Clarke," Bellamy says quietly.

"Something's always gonna be up," Clarke says with a grim twist of her mouth. "But nothing specific at the moment, okay, Bellamy?"

He wants to reach out and trace the sharp angles of her face, wondering where the softness had gone. Touch his nose to hers and just breathe, just lose himself in the comfort of having her near. But he's sad, too, because he just can't understand what to do for her, and watching her be like this is shattering his heart into a million pieces.

_("I'm not in love with you!")_

 "We should start getting our things ready," Clarke says, breaking the thick silence that hangs between them. She turns, ready to walk away, but Bellamy puts a hand on her shoulder and turns her back around, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Her arms don't come around him the way he 

(wanted)

(needed)

expected them to, but her body relaxes against his for a moment, her head resting on his chest. He lowers his head to touch his face to the top of her own head, his lips brushing her forehead. Clarke pulls away at this, her fingers curling into fists and then uncurling, over and over. 

Suddenly, she winces a little, and then her hands start making the pulsing motions she was making back at the hospital back when Bellamy had gone to visit her. He'd noticed her doing this a couple times before, but he never understood why.

"Are you okay?" he asks, touching her moving hands.

"Yeah." Clarke's voice is stern and her words are short. "Get your stuff."

* * *

The train ride is silent, Clarke's hands still pulsing on the table between them, her head turned towards the window. She watches the ocean go farther away with a wistful look on her face.

"I've never really been to the ocean," she says after a while, not looking at Bellamy.

"What about Luna's rig?" he asks.

"That was under undesirable circumstances," Clarke mutters, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. Still not a smile, but it was close. "I've never really spent time on a beach and swam in the ocean and felt the sand between my toes and the wind in my hair."

She pauses, thinking.

"You were on the beach with me for a bit," Bellamy supplies.

"Undesirable circumstances again," Clarke says. "You were pissed at me."

"I forgave you."

"And you let me hug you, so it wasn't all that bad," Clarke says with a shrug, but there's a small light in her eyes, as if she's smiling without moving her mouth. 

"Yeah," he murmurs. "But I know what you mean."

"Earth really did a number on us, didn't it?" Clarke sighs.

Bellamy lets out a derisive snort. "That's an understatement. That's such an understatement that it's not even a statement."

Clarke spares him half a glance and a dramatic roll of her eyes, but then, as she turns back towards the window, she lets out a small breath of laughter. 

* * *

"I'm worried about her," Bellamy mutters, leaning against the counter. Jordan, Murphy, and Octavia are all sitting in various areas of the kitchen - Murphy with his legs crossed on one of the stools, Jordan in the chair next to him, and Octavia on top of the counter next to Bellamy. Those three have become an unlikely trio of best friends, though, thanks to Monty's warning, Bellamy saw the whole Jordan and Murphy thing coming.

"Right, so you guys obviously haven't fucked yet," Octavia mutters, and Murphy immediately clamps his hands over Jordan's ears. 

"Don't use that fuckin' language in this house!" he snaps, and Jordan lets out a snort.

"That's not important," Bellamy says, raising his voice slightly. "She's just - I know she's always been a little different since she came back, but something just - something-"

"She  _did_ have to relive whatever she went through in that thing," Jordan says sagely. "I mean, Aunt Clarke hadn't really talked to me about it, but I knew it was bad."

"Do you have any idea how weird it is to have someone about the same age as  _Bellamy_ call Clarke 'Aunt Clarke', Jordan?" Murphy asks.

"Bell's a year older than Jordan. Biologically, I mean," Octavia says. 

"What _ever,_ " Murphy says dramatically, leaning forward. 

"You guys are completely missing my point," Bellamy complains.

"We're not," Murphy states. "We understand that Clarke's acting a little more different and you're worried about that. But like you told us, she  _did_ have to go through all that pain again. Bellamy, she had to relive something that was so horrible it made her silent for more than a month."

Bellamy sighs, combing his hands through his short hair.

"Who gave you Ark hair?" Octavia asks. It's a strange term they developed, referring to how his hair was back before their mom was floated.

"Clarke," Bellamy answers.

The room falls silent, Bellamy silently mulling over Clarke's behavior.

There's a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Murphy says, untangling his limbs and sliding off the stool. Everyone waits with bated breath. "Oh, hey, Raven, and - hey, Clarke?"

"Hi, Murphy?" Clarke answers in the form of a question, clearly mocking him. Bellamy smiles a little, but he has no idea what the fuck Raven's doing here.

Raven and Clarke walk into the kitchen, followed by Murphy. The two women aren't even standing apart - they don't even seem to be angry with each other. Murphy raises an eyebrow in question from behind them, to which Octavia responds with a subtle shrug.

There's a long, awkward silence.

"Raven," Bellamy says tersely, not being able to stand the quiet anymore.

"Hi, Bellamy," Raven says, her cheeks coloring with shame.

"Bellamy, uh," Clarke mutters, putting an arm around Raven's shoulders so quickly she almost hits her in the face. 

"I'm sorry, Bellamy," Raven says, her throat bobbing as she swallows.

He pauses.

He doesn't understand if he can forgive her - Bellamy knows that Raven was thinking just like Echo.

But he sees Clarke's arm around her shoulders, and he's not so sure.

Clarke's a forgiving person, though - is he?

_Of course you are, Bellamy._

The voice in his head is Clarke's.

He knows Echo isn't even remotely sorry for what she's done.

But Raven isn't Echo.

And turns out, he knows Raven better.

So Bellamy walks forward and he pulls Raven into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she murmurs into his shoulder. "For everything."

"I know," Bellamy says, and he's actually telling the truth. 

* * *

Clarke stays much longer than the rest of them - the six of them had talked and had dinner, and for a few hours, it was just - perfect.

Clarke's helping him wash the dishes now, their fingers occasionally brushing in the water.

"Thanks for helping," Bellamy says quietly.

"You don't have to thank me," Clarke murmurs, finishing off the last dish and putting it in the dishwasher.

Bellamy smiles slightly to himself, his eyes on Clarke as she shuts off the tap and dries her hands with a towel. She then busies herself with the spoons and the forks, rinsing them in the warm, soapy water. 

He angles his body so his hip is against the countertop and leans forward to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and her movements come to a gradual halt as she turns her head to face him.

She reaches out and turns off the water with trance-like movements.

Bellamy's hand is still holding that lock of hair, and he moves his hand to cup her face, then slide into her hair to cradle the back of her head.

He leans forward, his forehead and nose touching hers, and he just  _breathes._

Clarke's eyes flutter closed, and Bellamy tilts his head down just a little and their lips actually touch, and he just can't believe this is happening, after years and years of wanting and needing and

(loving)

this is actually happening.

He sets his hand on her waist and leans even closer, kissing her slowly and sweetly, just capturing her bottom lip in between both of his own.

"Bellamy," Clarke says, and he blinks.

He's still standing there, his finger still holding that piece of her hair.

The kiss, locked away in the depths of his imagination.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Fine," he says, withdrawing his hand. Clarke grabs it in midair, and to his immense surprise, brings it up to her mouth, her lips pressed against the back of his hand.

"I'm trying to make this easier, Bellamy," she says, her words muffled by his hand. "But it's too much."

"What is? Me?" Bellamy asks.

"Just - everything," she breathes, and there are tears welling up in her eyes. Suddenly she turns around and kicks the countertop, and Bellamy rushes over to her, grabbing her from behind.

"Clarke," he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into her arms.

"I don't know what to be," she murmurs. "I don't know, I don't know,  _I don't know!"_

"I know, Clarke," he says into her hair. "I didn't know either."

She freezes.

"After Praimfaya," Bellamy says, his voice hushed as if he's speaking in a place of worship. "I wanted to - I was - I lost all sense of who I was."

"So did I." Clarke's voice is even quieter than his. "But you have no fucking clue."

"Don't say that," he says.

"Bellamy, you don't know! You weren't there, after Praimfaya. You weren't there, you were never  _fucking_ there! But," she adds, softening her voice, "it was never your fault, Bellamy." 

"I was going to walk out of an airlock," he murmurs. "Once, in that first year."

It's the first time he's ever admitted that to anyone - he never imagined Clarke would be the first to know.

Clarke turns around and grabs his face. "And you never thought,  _damn, Clarke would beat the shit out of me if I did this?"_

"I did," Bellamy murmurs. "I just - you weren't there, Clarke."

"Not in the way you think," she breathes, tears streaming freely down her face. "I, um." She clears her throat, letting out a grim, watery laugh. "It was a desert, not an airlock. And a gun against my head."

"No," he breathes, and he realizes just then that he's crying. "You didn't..." he says, leaning down and setting his forehead against her chest. "Clarke."

"Wasn't the first time I felt it," she says, and Bellamy can feel her tears soak into his hair.  "Just the first time I did something about it."

He shakes his head. "Clarke."

"And you're giving me shit about being upset over you doing what I was going to do."

"Going to do," Bellamy says, his lips moving against the neck of her shirt. "What stopped you?"

"Birds."

"Birds?"

"Story for another time, Bellamy," Clarke murmurs against his hair, running her hands up and down his back.

"I'm supposed to be comforting you," Bellamy sniffles. God, he hates his, he hates how he can never,  _ever_ get through to her, how he tries to comfort her but it always ends up being her.

"And you do comfort me," Clarke says gently, as if reading his mind. "You always do." Her hands are stroking his hair, running fingers through it, over and over.

* * *

"Do you want to stay tonight?" Bellamy asks, washing the last fork.

"No, actually," Clarke says quietly. "I, uh. I think I should learn to sleep on my own."

Bellamy remembers the previous night, before they left Aurora territory. Clarke hadn't put the pillow between them, and she had held him like a lifeline, her legs hooked around his waist and her hands resting on his shoulder blades, her face buried in his neck.

"Clarke," he murmurs. "Are you sure?"

"Is it because you'll miss me or because you're worried about me?" Clarke asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Miss you?" Bellamy asks in mock disbelief. "Are you insinuating that I'll miss you?"

"Not really," Clarke mutters. "Doubt you'd miss me almost strangling you every night."

Bellamy smirks. "You'd be surprised." Then, in a softer tone; "I will actually miss that."

Clarke's cheeks turn a pleasant shade of pink.

"But I am worried about you," Bellamy continues. "I mean - I'm not trying to use this against you, I'm not, but - you don't seem like you're ready to try."

"I know," she says. "But I think I'll be alright."

"Alright," Bellamy concedes with a smile. He opens the door for her, and for a moment, she pauses in the doorway, looking up at him.

Bellamy smiles.

To his absolute delight, Clarke smiles back. Real, and unbound, and just for him.

"You know, in the movies, this is the part where I lean down and kiss you. Or something."

It takes Clarke a second to see he's not serious, and then she starts laughing. "Or something."

Bellamy nods, a blush heating his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Clarke says, smiling shyly.

"Tomorrow," Bellamy murmurs, and the word tastes so wonderful in his mouth, the trust that there will be a tomorrow.

With her.

She leans up and kisses his cheek before leaving. 

 _Well, it was a friendly kiss,_ Bellamy tells himself, closing the door and turning around. Well, Clarke couldn't possibly have meant anything more by it. 

It was a nice kiss though.

He laughs a little then.  _Here you are, overthinking a kiss on the cheek like some twelve year old._

But that's okay, he supposes. Maybe there's a little time for that now.

To think. To hope. 

* * *

It had taken him a long time to fall asleep without having Clarke near, but he'd done it.

It's 3:46 in the morning, Bellamy groggily notes as he reaches for the clock on the nightstand. Nothing in particular had woken him up, but Bellamy sits up anyway, knowing it probably wouldn't be that easy to just close his eyes and try to fall asleep again.

He turns his head to the window - his bedroom window faces Clarke's own bedroom window, and through the crack in his curtains, he sees that her light is still on.

_It's fine. She still needs to sleep with the light on._

But he still wonders, as he lies back down and pulls the covers back over himself, whether it really is that easy, for him, for Clarke.

He wonders how long she lay awake, afraid to close her eyes.

He closes his eyes.

* * *

> **nodus tollens**
> 
> **_n._  the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go back and reread the chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure.**

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so it's getting kinda hard to hold off that bellarke kiss in case you can't tell


	25. Do You Feel Like A Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy try to uncover the queen's plot.

"Gemmaline Kal's a liar," Russell says, rubbing his temples.

"Manipulative, for sure," Clarke says, rubbing her eyes. She seems unnaturally tired to Bellamy, but they're too focused on the mission details for Bellamy to really look into it. "She's hiding something big. Russell, have you ever heard of someone named Xander Creed?"

Russell pauses. "Creed? Yes, but never any Creed by the name of Xander."

"Great, more Creeds," Bellamy mutters under his breath. "So many Creeds."

Clarke sighs. "You know multiple Creeds, then?"

"Scattered throughout the high layers of our government system," Russell declares. "Closest to me, would be Camille Creed - that would be my director of our Internal Operation Task Force. Her brother, Austin Creed, director of Foreign Affairs. Their older set of twins-"

"Let me guess, more directors?" Clarke asks.

"Sister, Caroline. Director of Environmental Control. Brother, Jonas-"

"Director of," Bellamy and Clarke recite at the same time.

"Nothing, actually," Russell says, looking amused. "He's the Secretary of State."

Bellamy and Clarke both glance at each other.

"Gotta say," Bellamy says, crossing his arms. "The Creeds are one classy family." 

* * *

"Murphy, you're on Caroline. Raven, you take Jonas. He's the Secretary of State, so see if you can grab some information on Aurora," Clarke says, tossing Raven and Murphy their I.D. cards.

"Got it," Raven says, leaning over and catching it with one hand. "You two?

"Camille and Austin are attending some fancy event, which Russell gave us access to," Bellamy says.

"I don't really get it, though," Shaw says from his spot at the computer. "The Creeds are Eligius. Why are we being so secretive about approaching them?"

"Xander Creed is a threat - to whom, we don't know," Clarke declares. "It could be a touchy subject, especially when they're so high up the food chain."

"Alright, one of you guys are gonna have to wear these," Shaw says, pulling out a pair of glasses. "They'll help with surveillance."

"Were you guys gonna leave without saying goodbye?" Emori asks, popping her head into the conference room, followed by Octavia.

"'Course we weren't," Murphy says, and Bellamy notices that his face is a delicate shade of pink.

"I'll take the glasses," Bellamy murmurs, grabbing them and putting them on. Immediately, small numbers and letters appear in the corners of his vision. "Whoa."

"Whoa, indeed," Clarke says, looking like she's trying not to laugh.

"Do they have x-ray vision?" Murphy asks.

"Idiot," says Raven affectionately, pulling his ear.

"I'm just saying, Clarke would definitely look smarter in those glasses," Murphy says with a smirk.

"Yeah, but I look more trustworthy," Bellamy argues. "Everyone loves an attractive person in glasses. It's hot."

"You're not," Octavia says, and Bellamy shoots her a glare.

"Okay, you two, no time to waste," Russell says, walking into the room and handing each of them a shopping bag. "It's a formal event. Go home and get dressed."

"Formal?" Bellamy asks, taking off the glasses and peering into the back. "Oh, hell. A suit?"

Clarke really does let out an undignified snort at that.

"Go," Russell says, a bit more insistently, but there's a hint of a smile on his face.

Clarke takes her back and leaves, and Bellamy follows.

* * *

"Oh, holy hell. No fuckin' way. Nuh uh," Murphy says, as soon as Bellamy comes downstairs. Murphy and Octavia are sprawled across the couch, awaiting his return.

"I think he looks great!" Octavia says, walking over to him and fussing over his hair.

"No, don't do that," Murphy whines, rushing over to them and swatting Octavia's hands aside. Murphy then proceeds to ruffle his hair with slightly violent enthusiasm.

"Having fun, are you?" Bellamy says with a scowl. "Where are my glasses?"

Octavia hands them to him, and Bellamy puts the glasses on.

"Oh, yeah, you're right, that is hot," Murphy says, stepping back and admiring the finished product.

Octavia steps back too and leans towards Murphy, saying something that sounds suspiciously like 'wait until he sees  _Clarke'_ before they both break out into idiotic giggles.

"Piss off."

* * *

They're right. 

It's unfair, honestly - Clarke looks amazing. She's wearing a solid, black top with thin straps that cross over her chest and triangles cut into her waist. At a second glance, he realizes that her skirt is actually pants, loose and perfect for moving around. Possibly for fighting.

Well, he hopes it won't come to that.

Her hair is pulled up into elaborate braids, a hairstyle he's actually seen Grounders with long hair wear. It leaves the long, smooth column of her neck bare, and Bellamy feels his throat going strangely dry.

"Emori did her hair," Raven says when they're all in the conference room, clearly noting Bellamy's expression. "Nice glasses."

Bellamy rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Okay, Raven and I should get going," Murphy says. Everyone slowly trickles out of the room, until it's just Bellamy and Clarke.

"You don't look too bad," Clarke murmurs.

"I'd say the same to you, but that would be a pretty big understatement," Bellamy breathes, angling his body and setting his hands on her hips, his thumbs brushing the exposed patches of skin. Clarke tilts her chin up just to brush her lips against his, a relatively innocent action that makes Bellamy's hands tighten on her hips.

"We'll pick this up later," Clarke says, pulling away.

"Bellamy," Murphy mutters, poking him in his gut to bring him back to reality. "You have  _got_ to stop fantasizing about kissing Clarke."

"I wasn't - I didn't - how did you-" Bellamy splutters.

"You have no idea how many times I've caught you staring at her mouth, dude," Murphy says. "Listen. Go in, get the job done quick. And don't get sidetracked."

"I won't," Bellamy mutters sullenly.

* * *

"Murphy, lecturing  _you._ Oh, how the tables have turned," Clarke says, crossing her legs. 

"Murphy's a little shit," Bellamy says, turning his head to smile at Clarke.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Bellamy, stop looking at me!" Clarke snaps. Bellamy huffs, but his smile grows as he turns his head back. Russell actually gave him a car to drive in, and that made him realize how much he'd missed the Rover. Fortunately, the car made up for that a lot.

Clarke fidgets with the fabric of her pants, her head turned towards the window.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy asks.

"Why do you ask me so much?" Clarke murmurs.

"Because I worry about you."

"You don't have to ask me so much, Bellamy," Clarke says quietly.

"I don't have to, but I'd like to," Bellamy counters, taking one hand off the wheel and putting it between their seats.

"Well, my answer will always be the same," Clarke says, reaching out and taking his hand without even looking away from the window. "So maybe you should stop asking."

Bellamy sighs, and the rest of the car ride passes in silence.

"What was Murphy even lecturing you on?" Clarke asks, when they park by one of the large buildings in the city.

"Oh, I don't even remember," he lies. 

Clarke chuckles a little and opens the door, turning to get out.

Most of her back is bare, and in the dim light, Bellamy can see scars all over it. Small lines everywhere, but there are a few that catch his attention.

"Clarke, wait," he says, reaching out to touch her back.

There's a strange symbol right in the middle of her back, a large triangle with lines inside it leading into a smaller triangle, and the smallest triangle inside, at the bottom middle of the symbol. Bellamy brushes his fingers over it, and-

He realizes it with sickening clarity.

_From the ashes, we will rise._

The Second Dawn symbol.

Down her back, seemingly reaching down to the small of her back, which is covered with the fabric of the top, is a straight line with another one spiraling around it. He traces that one, too, and then there's another scar that jumps out at him.

It's just beneath one of her shoulder blades, and it's words rather than symbols.

The letters are messy - they were carved into her skin with vengeance, with feverish rage.

_SHE WILL COMMAND DEATH_

His vision goes white with rage.

"Bellamy," Clarke says gently.

"Who did this to you?" he asks quietly, struggling to keep his voice even.

"Bellamy, just forget it." Her voice is slightly harsher.

"Clarke-"

"We have to go. Now," Clarke says, turning her head to face him. It is a command, and her eyes are burning. It is moments like these where the extent of the effect Clarke has on others affects him most, but he knows, as he gets out of the car and joins Clarke, that their conversation is far from over.

If he has any say in the matter, that is.

* * *

He finds them immediately.

Camille and Austin Creed are tall and dark-haired, weaving through the party. They both have glittering green eyes that Bellamy could spot from a mile away.

"Don't leave my side, unless they're in different places," Clarke orders. "Only you're wearing the glasses. Speaking of which, put them on, you idiot!"

"Oh," Bellamy says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit and withdrawing the glasses. He'd taken them off to help him drive - the writing comes to life in his vision again. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," Clarke says dryly. "Time to go."

They walk up to the Creeds.

"Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin," Austin says, smiling at them. "Russell's told us about you."

"Nice to meet you," Clarke says sweetly, smiling back. "We just have a few questions."

Camille looks intrigued. "About what?"

"You guys know anyone by the name of Xander Creed?" Bellamy asks.

Camille and Austin look at each other, then back at them.

"We should have this conversation somewhere else," Austin mutters. Camille looks incensed.

"Then let's go have this conversation," Clarke says.

"Austin," Camille says in a warning tone.

"Russell trusts them," Austin says, and Bellamy wonders how Austin knows that. As if reading his mind, Austin turns back to Bellamy. "Russell holds you both in very high regard." Then, to his sister. "It's fine, Cami."

Camille nods and walks away, clearly indicating them to follow. 

* * *

Camille paces around the small room, pinching the bridge of her nose. Clarke had just told them everything - Gemma's experiments, and how Xander Creed seems to be related to all of it.

"We haven't heard from our brother in years," Austin says quietly.

"It's not just that, Austin," Camille snaps. "Xander's supposed to be dead!"

"Well, he's obviously not," Clarke supplies, who's leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"No one is supposed to know that he even existed," Camille says.

"Why's that?" Bellamy asks.

"We moved from the other side of the country to here a while ago. Xander didn't come with us - he's not in any system around here. And he's dead."

"Why didn't he come with you?" Clarke murmurs.

"He didn't want to. He and Mom - they stayed back in Mifast - that's where we came from," Austin says.

"Is your mom still around?" Clarke continues.

"Died last year," Camille says flatly.

"Listen, Xander, your brother, may still be alive," Bellamy says. "And he's extremely important to whatever the queen of the Aurora Kingdom has planned. And that's why we need to know where he is so the queen doesn't get what she wants."

"The queen?" Austin asks in disbelief. "What the hell is going on?"

"We can't give you the details on that," Clarke says, "You'll have to ask Russell. But whatever it is, your brother is right in the middle of it."

"Camille," Austin says quietly. "We have to find Xander."

"Xander's dead!" Camille says. 

"Camille, how do you know-" Austin begins.

 _"I killed him!"_ Camille snaps.

A deafening silence crashes over them.

"What?" Austin asks weakly. "Camille, you were with me the night he died!"

"That's not when he died, though," Camille says, and she sounds like she's on the verge of tears.

"When, Camille?" Austin asks, his voice deadly quiet. Bellamy looks to Clarke, and Clarke looks almost sad.

"Austin-" Camille begins.

_"WHEN?"_

"Six years ago!" Camille spits. "January eighteenth, they told us that Xander was dead. I found him on February second, hiding out in an apartment."

"Is it the apartment that-" Austin starts.

"Burned to the ground? Cordelia Heights? Yeah."

Bellamy frowns.

_Cordelia Heights._

Austin blinks. "That wasn't you, though, Camille. The investigation - it said that the fire was unintentional."

"There was a dedrium core in his apartment," Camille murmurs.

"What's dedrium?" Bellamy asks.

"It's an element that was discovered on this planet," Austin says. "Highly dangerous, extremely radioactive. What was that core doing there, Camille?"

"I don't know," Camille says, crossing her arms. "But Xander was about to kill me and I - I shot the core. There was an explosion, and it started the fire. I killed him."

"How did you live, Camille? The explosion should've killed you!"

"I was on the balcony," Camille murmurs. "There was a pool, twenty floors down, not too far from the building. I jumped."

"Oh, my god," Austin murmurs.

"You said this was six years ago?" Clarke asks.

Austin and Camille start talking, their words overlapping, but Bellamy's attention shifts, because words appear in his vision, from Shaw's glasses.

> **There are men here, and they're looking for you.**

"How do you know that?" Bellamy mutters under his breath, hoping Shaw can hear his voice.

> **Raven hacked into the party feeds. These guys, they're going around and showing the guests pictures of you, asking where you are.**

Bellamy's eyes meet Clarke's, and he hopes that Clarke can understand.

"Alright," he breathes. "Is there anything unusual about their appearance? Are they wearing any specific symbols or anything?”

> **Hold on...**
> 
> **Got it. They all have these matching tattoos on their wrists. It's a straight line and another one spiraling around it, and there's a small triangle at the bottom of the line.**

Bellamy's blood runs cold - it's the same symbol carved onto Clarke's back.

"Clarke, we have to go," he calls to her. "There are people here looking for us."

"Do they have the queen's insignia?" Camille asks.

"What does the queen's insignia even look like?" Clarke asks, walking over to Bellamy.

"It's a straight line with a spiral around it, leading into a small triangle at the bottom," Bellamy breathes. He looks at Austin. "Isn't it?"

The twins look at each other, clearly concerned. "It is."

"Ask Russell to meet us next weekend in the Wonkru Sector," Clarke asks. "We need to talk more."

"Go," Austin says. "We'll try and buy you some time to get away."

"Thank you," Clarke breathes, before shoving the door open and grabbing Bellamy's wrist.

The main room where everyone else happens to be is lit up in brightly flashing lights, alarms blaring. The lights make Bellamy's head spin and his vision go blurry.

"Good, that'll distract them," Clarke breathes, rubbing her temples. "Let's go."

They soon run into a tall man with dark skin and broad shoulders that block their way.

"Fuck," Bellamy mutters, and Clarke drives her elbow into the man's chin, kicking and punching. The man ends up on the floor, his eyes closed. When Clarke turns back to him, she has a dark cut on her cheekbone a little blood on her lip.

"You good?" Bellamy asks.

"Fucking great," she mutters, before grabbing him and pulling him away.

They have to take down four more men, and Clarke fishes the car keys out of his pocket, starting the car with fumbling fingers.

"You okay?" she asks, touching the cut on his chin.

"Yeah, now go!" Bellamy damn near shrieks, and they speed away, several black cars following them.

"They're gaining," Bellamy says nervously.

"Shut up and learn," Clarke says, making a sharp turn that causes Bellamy to almost fly out of his seat. "Put your fucking seatbelt on!" Clarke snaps.

"On it," he says, his voice a lot less shaky than he expected it to be.

Clarke weaves in and out of cars, turning and spinning and skidding, and there are more than a few times where Bellamy thinks they're dead for sure, either from Clarke's driving or whenever he sees the cars in the rearview mirror.

To his dismay, Clarke looks like she's having fun.

And Bellamy's got to admit - Clarke's an exceptional driver, being able to keep control of the car despite everything that's going on.

"I hate this," he mutters. He loves this.

"You're loving this," Clarke says through gritted teeth, turning so hard that the tires shriek. "Look behind us, is anyone following?"

"Three cars."

"Fucking hell," she mutters. "And we haven't even left the city."

She turns and races down a block that goes sharply downhill, and Bellamy grabs the panic bar.

Because, well, he's fucking panicking.

The car actually rises off the ground for a second, then it's back down with a violent thud, and Clarke's turning  _again._

"Lose 'em yet?" Clarke eyes, her eyes focused on the road.

"No," Bellamy says, his fingers tightening on the panic bar.

"Damn it!" Clarke yells, and suddenly they're going  _even faster,_ Clarke's eyes glittering in the night.

"Turn there," Bellamy says, pointing towards a dark gap in between buildings.

"You think our car can fit through that alley?" Clarke asks, craning her neck a little. "Looks like it can. Hold on."

The car turns ninety fucking degrees, and Bellamy presses his head against the seat, trying to keep his eyes open. 

Clarke looks vibrantly beautiful - her face is lit up by the various lights of the city and the car dashboard, even the cut on her cheek making her look pretty. A few locks have escaped her hairstyle and are now framing her face.

"You look really pretty," Bellamy blurts.

"Sorry my driving is making you this delirious," Clarke says with a slight laugh.

"Didn't lie," Bellamy says, leaning his head against the window.

"You look pretty, too," Clarke says, exiting the alley through the other side. There are only one of the cars now, still following them.

"Down to one," Bellamy mutters.

"I don't need to tell you to hold on, do I?" Clarke asks.

"I'm already holding on," Bellamy says, gesturing to his white-knuckled grip around the panic bar with his free hand.

Clarke smiles, and with a few more sharp turns, random accelerations, and even a small yelp from Bellamy, they're soon zooming through the outskirts of the city.

"What the hell was that all about?" Bellamy asks. Clarke has unfortunately not lessened her speed yet.

"I don't know, Bellamy," she murmurs.

"They knew we'd be here," Bellamy declares. "They had the queen's insignia."

"So Gemma's definitely behind whatever they wanted," Clarke says.

Bellamy sighs, not bothering to loosen his grip on the panic bar.

The world races by in blurred colors, and ominous dread starts to replace Bellamy's rush of adrenaline.

"This is not good, is it?" Clarke breathes, slowing down a little, but Bellamy can't help but look behind him to see if anyone's following.

Then he turns back to Clarke, whose eyes are flicking over to him, looking expectant and a little scared.

He knows how she feels.

"Just drive," Bellamy says.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> car chase!!!!


	26. You Can't Find Your Missing Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke try to figure out what the queen's plan is for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys I feel like this is getting boring

"Bellamy.  _Bellamy._ Wake up."

His eyes snap open and he shoots up, looking around wildly. "What is it? Who's hurt?"

Bellamy slowly focuses on the person sitting on his bed. "Clarke?"

"Everything's okay," Clarke says. He slowly remembers the last night, Clarke driving them home, and then collapsing into bed, dreaming of nothing...

"We leave for the kingdom tomorrow morning, Bellamy," Clarke says.

"Oh, no, no, no," Bellamy says. "We can't go back after tonight!"

"We have to,"  Clarke says, grabbing his shoulder. "It's the only way we get anything. Even though she sent men after us," Clarke says, narrowing her eyes.

"For what, though?" Bellamy asks.

"They had guns, Bellamy, I saw them."

"And you still want to go back?" Bellamy asks in disbelief. "You're not exactly helping your case here."

"Camille says Xander died six years ago, but his involvement in everything seems fairly recent, doesn't it?"

"He was only in the alternate universes, Clarke, that doesn't mean he's alive," Bellamy says, absentmindedly reaching out and touching a bruise on the cheek that isn't cut.

"Those universes were created to be copies of our universe, Bellamy."

"Yeah, well Jaha was alive in mine!" Bellamy pushes. "Could be the same for Xander."

"Dead, or alive, he's still important," she says, gently. 

"Damn it," Bellamy mutters, rubbing his temples.

"Look, I'll give Russell the update, talk to Raven and Murphy about everything. You get up and get your things ready."

She slides off the bed.

"Clarke, wait," Bellamy says. "This means Gemma knows we're associated with Russell. Didn't he say that it was some fancy event that he got us into? Wouldn't Gemma draw the connection and know we're with Eligius?"

"If she confronts us about it," Clarke says, pausing in the doorway. "Let me do the talking."

* * *

Bellamy sighs, watching her from the doorway for a while before walking up to her. It's later in the day - it's night, actually, and she's standing at the desk in her house, sorting through scattered papers. Every single bit of information on Xander Creed, every record of him and his family is spread out across the table, some sent over from where the Creeds used to live. He stays silent, just observing her. He knows something's up - he just doesn't know how to prove it.

Clarke sighs, putting on hand on her hip and combing the other through her hair, her head swiveling as she scans all the documents for what must be the millionth time.

"Damn it," she snaps to herself, moving the hand from her hip to slam the table. That hand joins the other in her hair, using all her fingers to tug at the silky locks. Clarke sighs, her shoulders heaving.

"Hey, Clarke," Bellamy murmurs, walking over to her bracing his hands on the table. "What's up?"

"It's like one day he existed and the next day he didn't. Nothing about death, barely anything about the Cordelia Heights fire." Clarke yanks on a bit of her hair particularly hard. Bellamy reaches up and links his fingers with hers, pulling one of her hands to his side. Clarke turns her head to his, and there are dark circles under eyes, her cheeks hollow. He'd noticed these traits earlier, but they look more pronounced now.

"When's the last time you slept?" he asks suddenly.

"Last night." The words come too quickly from her mouth to be true.

"More than a few minutes."

Clarke sifts through the papers, ignoring his words.

"Clarke," he pushes.

She doesn't say anything.

He can sense the tension building in her body.

"Answer me," he says, his voice low and deadly.

"I don't know!" she snaps, throwing her hands up. Then, softly; "I don't know."

"Clarke-"

"I can't see it anymore," she says shakily. "I already see it whenever I look at you."

"You can't keep hurting yourself, Clarke. You need to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"What, you'll just keep yourself awake for days and days to run from your past?"

"Bellamy," Clarke groans, rubbing her eyes. "I slept."

"How many hours, Clarke?" Bellamy exclaims. He can't believe a word of this.

"One or two," Clarke murmurs under her breath.

She takes his stunned, angry silence for a reason to go back to the papers.

He just stares, watches her move around.

At some point, he sees her staring at one point in the wall, her eyelids fluttering. She hasn't moved in a while.

Seemingly noticing his expression at some point, Clarke sighs. "You've got it all wrong, Bellamy. I'm sleeping, okay? Just a little late and waking up a little early."

"Then why'd you say you don't know the last time you slept more than a few minutes, and then say you slept a total of one or two hours in the past few days?" Bellamy asks in disbelief.

"To shut you up," Clarke snaps. "Now either contribute to this or leave."

"You promise you're sleeping?" Bellamy murmurs.

Clarke gasps, snatching up a paper. "Oh my god, Bellamy. You're a genius. Now get out."

"What is it?" Bellamy asks, leaning closer.

"That's not you getting out, but okay," Clarke mutters under her breath. "Look. Dedrium."

"Dedrium," Bellamy repeats slowly. "What are you thinking?"

"Well," Clarke says, starting to sort the papers and put them in neat stacks. "What if dedrium isn't that deadly?"

"It burned a whole apartment to the ground, Clarke," Bellamy counters skeptically.

"Camille lived," Clarke says, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows.

"She jumped into a pool right before the blast, though," Bellamy says.

"Not before, Bellamy," Clarke says, dropping her voice.  _"During."_

Bellamy raises his chin, realization washing over him. "Right. She fired the shot. But she was fast - she jumped."

"Two hundred feet, Bellamy," Clarke says. "And it was all too fast, unless she fired the shot from midair."

"Camille's like, the top spy, Clarke. It's not entirely unrealistic."

"Yeah, Bellamy, but either way, the timeline doesn't work."

Bellamy pauses, considering. "There's gotta be  _some_ way Camille lived, though."

"And she knows the way," Clarke says, crossing her arms. "But she didn't tell us."

Bellamy touches a finger to the cut on his chin. "So you're saying, if Camille's alive, then Xander might be as well."

"It's a long shot, Bellamy," Clarke says tiredly. "I'd have to do extensive research on the properties of dedrium, see how it reacts to human biology. Adapted and evolved human biology," she amends. 

"We don't have time now, we're leaving tomorrow," Bellamy states.

"Yeah," Clarke sighs. "The train leaves at five-thirty in the morning tomorrow, so be up early."

"Okay," Bellamy says quietly. "You should get some rest then. Go."

"You go on, I'll be out of here in a few minutes," Clarke says distractedly.

Bellamy leans over and cups her jaw, turning her face to his to quickly peck her on the forehead.

Clarke smiles shyly. "Go, Bellamy. I'll be okay."

He squeezes her shoulder and then he goes. 

* * *

Clarke looks wide awake during the entire ride, though Bellamy keeps yawning, his head eventually falling onto Clarke's shoulder.

"You're not a morning person, are you?" Clarke asks quietly.

"I was," he admits. "But I got used to normal times to wake up."

Clarke nods. "Well, you're having a normal reaction."

"You aren't," he mutters.

"I'm used to waking up early," Clarke says.

"Not  _this_ early," Bellamy mumbles. "What-" He's interrupted by a yawn, "-time is it?"

"Six."

He groans and buries his face in her hair. "I'm too old for this shit. Jesus, I'm almost thirty."

"Thirty's not that old," Clarke says, running her fingers through his hair. "But you are actually a lot older than thirty."

"Chronologically, not biologically," Bellamy clarifies. "And who gives a shit about chronological age?"

Clarke just laughs quietly to herself.

* * *

"Your blood can withstand intense radiation," Gemma says, holding a vial of Clarke's blood up for both of them to see.

"I know," Clarke mutters. "That's how I survived the apocalypse."

Gemma raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know, stupid Earthling problems," Clarke says, her face dead serious. "Anything else?"

"Bellamy's blood can also withstand radiation, but not as much as Clarke's," the queen continues. "That's really only the big thing here. We have a couple more tests to run, and maybe you'll be out of here for good."

There's a silence as Gemma walks around the lab, checking equipment.

Suddenly, Clarke speaks up. "What do you know about dedrium?"

Gemma turns around and crosses her arms. "It's a dangerous element."

"That's it?" Bellamy asks.

The queen shrugs. "More or less."

Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Now, we're going to get started," Gemma says. "Both of you, follow me."

She leads Bellamy and Clarke into a small white room, with one wall of glass, looking into another room, completely identical to the first. There's a small black table on both sides of the glass, with two small objects lying on each one. 

"I need one of you to go into the other room - it's just the door after this one. There's a pair of electrodes on the table, put those on your temples."

"Got it," Bellamy says, exiting the room. He goes into the other one, and stares at Clarke through the glass. The queen is nowhere to be seen.

Clarke takes her seat at the desk at the same time Bellamy does, and then she reaches out and presses her fingertips to the glass.

Bellamy echoes her movements, pressing his own fingers to the other side of the glass, and he just realizes, how much smaller her hand is, pale and mostly unscarred, unlike the rest of her.

 _I love you,_ his mind screams.

Clarke withdraws her hand and presses the electrodes to her temples, jerking her chin towards Bellamy's table to indicate him to do the same.

Bellamy puts them on and closes his eyes. 

 _"Clarke, there's a drawer underneath your desk. Open it,"_ the queen's voice rings from some hidden PA system. Clarke looks deeply into Bellamy's eyes as she slowly, tentatively pries the drawer open. She looks down into the drawer, and her mouth opens in an inaudible gasp.

"Clarke?" Bellamy asks, pressing a hand to the glass.

 _"Take it."_ The queen's voice is unforgiving.

Clarke withdraws two small objects with violently shaking hands.

Bellamy sighs, noticing the two pills in her hand. The same pills she'd taken when Bellamy had seen her in his dream.

_("Clarke."_

_She looks up at the sound of her name coming from the unknown man's lips._

_Then back down, swallowing as if she's steeling herself to do something._

_Bright blue pill first. It's almost the same color as her eyes._

_Deep orange next. It's the color of their radiation suits before Praimfaya, at least before Clarke had to change hers.)_

Clarke's taking deep, erratic breaths.

_"There's a bottle of water under the table."_

Clarke says something, but Bellamy can't hear it - the glass is soundproof.

"Don't make her do this, Gemma," Bellamy says. "Don't."

Clarke glares at her hand, then grabs the water bottle.

"Clarke," Bellamy yells.  _"CLARKE!"_

She takes both the pills, a bit of water spilling onto the front of her shirt due to her unsteady movements.

 _"Clarke, no!"_ he screams, banging against the glass. He rushes over to the door, trying to open it, but it won't budge.

It's locked.

He turns back, and looks at Clarke.

Her expression is placid, her eyes closed, hands linked on the table in front of her.

"What did you do to her?" Bellamy screams at the ceiling.

_"Sit down, Bellamy."_

"Not until you tell me what those pills do."

The queen doesn't answer.

Bellamy walks over to the desk - his also has a drawer. He tries to open it, but it doesn't move.

He looks at Clarke, and her eyes open after a few agonizing minutes. He keeps his eyes on her lips in case she speaks.

"Bellamy." The word falling from her lips is clear.

He puts a hand against the glass. She does, too.

* * *

Gemma takes more of their blood, has them read specific patterns of words for the next hours, all throughout the day, pausing for lunch and dinner.

Clarke barely speaks to him or Gemma, and it takes all of Bellamy's self-control not to scream at Gemma. The queen had assured him that the pills were harmless, supposed to make it easier to monitor brain activity or something.

They're back at their usual room now, and Clarke's walking to her door, ready to sleep.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Bellamy asks quietly.

"No," she says shortly. "I'll sleep just fine."

She disappears into her bedroom, the door shutting with a definitive thud. 

* * *

It's a bit past midnight and Bellamy still can't sleep, so he sits up and presses his ear against the wall, listening for any sounds in Clarke's bedroom.

There's absolute silence, but it doesn't ease the knots of dread in his gut.

Bellamy slowly gets out of bed, making sure to walk lightly. Heel, toe, heel, toe.

He tries to open the door as quietly as he can - he doesn't want Clarke to know he's coming.

He would've thought the light in Clarke's room would be on, but through the crack under her door, he can see that it's not.

Bellamy sighs, slowly setting a hand on her doorknob and twisting it while making the least amount of noise possible.

There's barely any light in the room - most of it is bathed in thick, crushing darkness. Bellamy's eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and he can barely make out Clarke's figure lying on her side on the bed, her back turned to him.

He takes one step, then two, then three, then four. Ten steps and he's at Clarke's bed.

Her body is moving slowly, and he reaches out, fingertips hovering over her shoulder.

And then he touches her, and in almost five seconds, Bellamy's yanked onto the bed and forced onto his back, and Clarke's sitting on top of him, a knife held under his chin. Her eyes are bright with adrenaline, but she slowly relaxes as she realizes who it is.

"Damn it, Bellamy," Clarke mutters, setting the knife down next to her pillow. "You scared me."

"I was making sure if you're okay," he says, shaking a stray curl (well, wave now) of hair out of his eye. "You're not sleeping."

"You woke me up," Clarke protests.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks. "When?"

"When you leaned against the bed, before you touched me," Clarke says. Bellamy isn't quite sure she's being honest - she looked too alert when she attacked him to have been asleep just a minute ago. "I'm a light sleeper," Clarke adds, as if reading his mind.

"Right," Bellamy says, closing his eyes. He's suddenly very tired. 

"Go back to sleep," Clarke says soothingly, patting his shoulder and getting off of him. 

"Same goes for you," Bellamy murmurs, sliding off her bed and walking over to her door. "Okay?"

"Mhm."

Bellamy's about to push the already open door a little farther away, but then he pauses. "What did that pill do, Clarke?"

"Not what they did in the other world," Clarke assures him, but her voice sounds far away. 

* * *

**Tuesday**

Gemma makes him go through one of his earliest memories - teaching Octavia how to dance.

Clarke scours books on dedrium late into the night - too late for Bellamy to stay awake long enough to see whether she sleeps at all. 

* * *

**Wednesday**

Gemma scours Clarke's memories. The experience brings tears to her eyes.

Later that night, Bellamy asks her what it was that Clarke saw.

"Dad," is all she says. It's all Bellamy needs. 

* * *

**Thursday**

He doesn't understand the point of Gemma's tests anymore.

He doesn't understand the connection they have to anything she wants, and can't help but feel like he's running around in circles.

He wonders whether they're actually supposed to mean anything at all. 

* * *

**Friday**

"You don't need to return," Gemma says. "I have all the necessary results."

"After two weeks of testing?" Clarke asks skeptically. "A week and a half?"

"You guys have been an immense help, coming forward like that," Gemma says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Now, don't mention this to any of your Eligius friends, alright?"

"Eligius isn't-" Bellamy interrupts.

"I know you're very closely connected to Russell," Gemma says, her voice dangerously calm. 

"As your men have discovered," Clarke mutters under her breath.

 _"My_ men?" Gemma asks, and there's a very tense silence.

They had her insignia, and Bellamy is about to say as much before the queen starts talking again. "Your train's here. You two should get going."

Clarke gets onto the train without a backward glance at either of them, and Gemma sighs when Clarke disappears from their vision.

"Thank you for coming," Gemma says, looking up at Bellamy. 

He just nods before getting onto the train himself. 

* * *

"I'm telling you, that's the spookiest shit ever," Shaw drawls, taking a long swig from his glass of water. "They're all lying to you."

"Nice observation," Emori snaps, who's sitting on the arm of the couch, her elbow resting on Jordan's head.

"Yeah, well, he's not wrong," Jordan sighs. "There's no connection to everything she did and what she claims to want."

Murphy, who's sitting next to Jordan on the couch with Raven's legs in his lap (Shaw strangely doesn't seem to mind), scoffs. "So here are the two possibilities. Either the queen's playing another angle, or she ran those tests just to keep you two busy."

"Busy why?" Raven asks. "It's not like we were even really paying attention to her. If she really wanted to keep us busy, she honestly could've just left us alone."

"Well, maybe she's going all out," Clarke says, leaning back in her own sofa. Bellamy's sitting on the floor in front of her, leaning against her legs. "Taking us so close to what's actually going on so we, like, completely ignore the possibility of anything else."

"Unlikely," Bellamy says, raising a knee and pulling it to his chest. "That's risky."

"But it could be efficient," Octavia argues, who's sitting on the floor a few feet away from him.

Bellamy sighs. It's a strange gathering here in Murphy's apartment, and he notices how no one seems to mention the sudden disappearance of Echo from their group.

_It's fine. Everything's fine._

"Well, we know what to do now," Clarke says, plunging her hands into Bellamy's hair and running through his hair. He senses that Clarke  _really_ likes doing that.

"We actually don't," says Murphy, flicking Raven's good foot.

"Jordan, you're going to help me with my dedrium research," Clarke clarifies. "Octavia and Emori are going to look into the Cordelia Heights fire."

"Six years ago, right?" Emori asks. 

"Yeah," Clarke answers. "Zeke, Murphy, Raven..."

She trails off, her hands stilling in Bellamy's hair for a moment. "I don't know. Do whatever."

Shaw and Murphy simultaneously burst into laughter, and Raven sighs dramatically.

"Hey, shut the hell up," Clarke says. "This is a serious situation."

Octavia locks her eyes with Bellamy's, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Octavia's fingers slowly going up, counting. 

_One, two, three, four..._

On five, Bellamy hears Clarke start to laugh, too, and Bellamy rolls his eyes at Octavia with a smile.

"Okay, but seriously," Clarke says, after her laughter has subsided. "I want you guys on it."

"On it," Octavia says with a sage nod.

Clarke's hands resume their steady, repetitive movements, and Bellamy finds his whole body relaxing, his eyes drifting shut as he leans his head against Clarke's knees.

There are so many questions left unresolved and unanswered, especially in Clarke's case, but Bellamy doesn't see how he can really do anything about that.

"Hey, Clarke?" he says quietly in a moment when others are talking amongst themselves.

"Yeah?" she answers, her voice just as soft.

Bellamy opens his mouth, trying to get words out.

"Nothing," he says finally. "Nothing."

He thinks back to the strange dream he had of Clarke, with the gold twisting around her fingers, the power, all in her control.

She'd shot something, and that had-

_That had caused a blast._

And that had sparked the strange energy in her...

_Dedrium._

Bellamy gasps softly to himself as one of the craziest ideas he's ever had reveals itself in his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone watch Marvel's Agents of SHIELD


	27. Tell Me How You Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy discover a dangerous plot back at the roots of the Wonkru settlement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys this chapter is going to suck

The party is slowly disintegrating, people leaving to go to their respective places. Bellamy and Clarke both step out into the hallway, after bidding their goodbyes to Murphy.

"Something's on your mind," Clarke murmurs, taking his hand. Bellamy tries to ignore the delicious heat that spreads from their point of contact to the rest of his body.

"I'm thinking about the dedrium," he murmurs, stroking her hand. 

"What about it?" Her voice sounds strangely unsteady, and there's a slight hitch in her breath when Bellamy's fingers touch her pulse point.

"It's completely crazy," Bellamy says, suppressing a shiver when they step out into the chilly autumn night.

"Well, this whole situation seems to be getting crazier and crazier," Clarke counters. "So your thought might not be so crazy after all."

Bellamy smirks a little. "Wanna bet?"

* * *

She's completely silent after Bellamy finishes telling her.

"Please say something," Bellamy says.

"Let me get this straight, Bellamy," Clarke says. "You think Camille absorbed the dedrium in the blast and got superpowers because you saw a dream where I shot something and there was a blast and then _I_ got powers."

"It sounds dumber when you say it like that," Bellamy scowls.

"On the contrary," Clarke grins. "I think we're getting somewhere." 

* * *

 "Clarke, it's almost midnight," Bellamy whines.

"Trust me, you're going to thank me later," Clarke says, quietly unlocking the main building with the conference room. "This is gonna help, okay?"

Bellamy rolls his eyes, following her into the dark building. All the lights come to life, and a holographic screen is projected in front of them.

 _"Identify yourselves,"_ a cool female voice orders.

"Bellamy Blake," Bellamy says. 

"And Clarke Griffin," Clarke finishes.

The projection disappears, and Clarke starts jogging down the hall.

"Damn it, Clarke," Bellamy mutters. "I've been up for almost twenty hours-"

"This is it," Clarke sighs, pulling him into a huge room, floor to ceiling bookshelves packed with books. 

"A library, Clarke," Bellamy says.

"Purely scientific, of course," Clarke says, walking up to a podium with a tablet set up on it. She presses a button on the podium and another hologram flickers to life in front of her. "Dedrium," Clarke says, her voice loud and clear.

_"Locating all books on dedrium..."_

"Clarke, wouldn't you have done this either way, though?" Bellamy asks. "In your research for dedrium? I don't see how my theory really changes anything."

"I wasn't going to look in this library, Bellamy," Clarke says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

"What's so different about this library, then?" Bellamy asks, crossing his arms.

"This is a library recording experiments, not fact," Clarke declares, smiling. "The archives of all the testing that's ever been done since the beginning of Eligius."

_"Dedrium texts have been located. They are in the green shelf segment in Row Fourteen, Column Two."_

"Come on," Clarke says, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the shelves. They find several shelves lit up with green lights attached to the tops of the shelf spaces, and Clarke pulls out one of the books at random.

"This is a lot," Bellamy says. "There are at least thirty books here."

Clarke pauses, thinking. "I'll be right back," she mutters, before sprinting back towards the front of the library. Bellamy scans the shelves, when suddenly, the lights change, indicating a smaller number of books than before. Clarke runs back, nearly running right into Bellamy. "We're down to fourteen books," she states, then pulls all fourteen of those books out, handing some to Bellamy and taking some herself. "Jordan and I will analyze these. Will you help me take them back home?" 

* * *

"Thanks," Clarke says, as Bellamy drops the books on her table with a definite  _thump._

"No problem. Please tell me you won't start looking through them now, though," Bellamy says, narrowing his eyes at the woman in front of him.

"Of course not," Clarke snaps. "I have to  _sleep,_ don't I?"

Bellamy just smiles, knowing it'll piss her off. "Yeah, you do." He walks over to the door, zipping up his jacket. Then he turns his head back. "Goodnight."

He pauses for a few seconds, waiting to see if she'll ask him to stay. But she doesn't.

"'Night," Clarke says, stepping in front of the table, unintentionally blocking the books from view. Bellamy sighs inwardly and closes the door behind him, taking the few short steps to his own house.

It doesn't occur to him to check on him until he's changing in his bedroom, so, with his shirt in his hands, Bellamy walks back towards his window, looking at Clarke's window to see if the light's on. She's sitting there, pacing in circles around her room as she reads a book. It doesn't take long for her to notice him, and she walks over to the window with a glare.

Bellamy glares back, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

She then proceeds to make a big show of slamming the book shut and setting it down somewhere, then holds her hands up in surrender.

Bellamy rolls his eyes, and Clarke smiles sweetly at him before drawing a translucent curtain over her window. After a moment, the light goes out in her room, and Bellamy sighs. He hopes she'll be okay sleeping with the lights off, and Bellamy pulls on the soft cotton t-shirt as he slides into bed.

_Gemma gone, Xander dead, Clarke happy - it all seems too good to be true._

He thinks back to those dreams, of Clarke with the gold, of Clarke wearing Gemma's crown. 

They seem more like ominous premonitions rather than dreams, though. 

* * *

He's sitting at his desk late in the afternoon the next day and reading something when he hears the pounding on his door.

"Oi! Bellamy, let us in!" Murphy's voice. Bellamy rushes over to the door and shoves it open, revealing Octavia and Murphy standing in the chilly rain.

"What is it?" Bellamy asks.

Octavia's eyes are red and puffy from crying. "It's Clarke."

* * *

 The half-hour plane ride to the Wonkru camp is almost as nerve-wracking as when he first hurtled down to Earth in the dropship, but he says nothing about it. They touch down on the makeshift dirt runway with ease, though, and Bellamy's out of the plane as fast as he can be.

Echo herself is standing there by the cabins, her arms crossed.

"What - happened?" Bellamy asks tersely - Octavia and Murphy refused to tell him.

"Clarke came to visit Madi," Echo says, looking away from Bellamy's face. 

"So what's the issue, Echo?" Bellamy pushes.

"All these months, Clarke's been told that Madi doesn't want to see her, right?"

"Right," Bellamy says slowly.

"Yeah, well, it's come to Clarke's attention that it wasn't true," Echo mutters.

"Did  _you_ know that it wasn't true?" Bellamy snaps.

"That's not exactly a yes or no question, Bellamy," Echo says quietly. "I knew more than her, but - it's apparently a lot deeper than that. And I swear I had nothing to do with it."

"So what was actually happening?" Bellamy asks in disbelief.

"Madi was taken under the wings of many -  _Flame_ enthusiasts. Us Grounders who still believed in the religion of the Commanders."

"Damn it," Bellamy mutters, running his hands through his hair. 

"You need to go find her, Bellamy," Echo says. "Clarke will not take kindly to the truth."

Bellamy pushes past her and then he runs.

"Yo, Blake!" a woman's voice calls. He whirls around, coming face to face with Charmaine Diyoza. Holding an adorable little toddler in her arms. 

"Oh, hey," he says urgently, pausing to smile at the baby. "How old is she now?"

"Hope's a year old," Diyoza says. "You okay, Bellamy?"

"No, actually," he says, a little warily, because he's not entirely sure how to be in her presence. "Have you seen Clarke? Or Madi?"

"No," Diyoza murmurs. "You should ask Abby or Marcus. They might know."

Names and faces, people he hasn't seen in forever. 

"Okay," Bellamy murmurs, reaching out to tickle Hope's foot, eliciting loud, free giggles from her. "Thanks," he says, before running towards the transport ship.

"Hey, Miller, hey, Jackson," Bellamy says absentmindedly, zooming past the people. "Oh, wait, Jackson, come back!"

Jackson slides back over, his shoes making a skidding noise. "Yeah?" he asks.

"You see Abby anywhere?" Bellamy asks breathlessly. 

"Med bay," Jackson says, pointing his thumb towards one of the bigger sections of the ship. 

"Thanks!" Bellamy calls back as he runs towards the med bay. He barges in, and it is mercifully empty except Abby, Kane, and Indra.

"Bellamy?" Kane asks, striding over to him, and Bellamy is fervently glad that he's okay. "You alright, Bellamy?" he asks, grabbing his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he says a little dazedly, barely stopping himself from adding  _Dad_ at the end of that sentence. Octavia and Murphy barrel into the room, looking breathless. To Bellamy's immense surprise, Abby goes and hugs Murphy. Octavia touches Indra's shoulder before running straight into Kane's arms. "Abby, have you seen Clarke?" Bellamy asks worriedly.

Abby shakes her head. "I thought she was with you."

"Well, do you know where Madi is?" Bellamy asks, and he can hear a touch of desperation seeping into his voice.

There's an overwhelming silence, then Indra sighs. "Of course," she murmurs.

"What?" Murphy asks.

Indra sweeps her gaze over them all. "Gaia." 

* * *

"Where is she?" Octavia asks, her fingers twitching at her sides.

"Gaia's supposed to be in the mess hall," Indra says, crossing her arms. Bellamy and Octavia glance at each other once before racing out of med bay.

"Where the fuck is the mess hall?" Murphy asks breathlessly. 

"That big building over there, I think," Octavia mutters, and they run. 

* * *

Madi's standing in the eerily empty hall, amongst the tables and chairs. Clarke is nowhere to be found.

"Madi?" Bellamy asks cautiously. "What's going on?"

She turns around, tears on her face. "She warned me, Bellamy, and I didn't listen."

"Madi, what are you talking about?" Octavia asks, walking over to Madi. "You have to talk, Madi."

Madi takes a deep breath, running her hand through her hair.

"Start from the beginning, kid," Murphy says.

"Okay, listen," Madi says, gesturing wildly. "I was mad, okay? I stayed with Echo all that time because I thought - I thought Clarke deserved to be gone. And then I was just going to fix it when she came back, when she saved you! But then you came back first, and I just - she came back and Echo told me that she would take care of all of it, okay? And then Gaia came, said I had to learn to be a real Commander. I grew up hiding from the Flamekeeper, and so I never ever learned what I needed to. Gaia had this whole circle of people, the true believers. And they taught me how to control the visions the dead Commanders gave me. I stopped having nightmares."

Octavia covers her eyes.

"But then - Lexa started talking to me."

Bellamy swallows. Murphy shoots him a look.

"She said the other Commanders were moving against her. Lexa told me that the other Commanders were worried about Clarke's possession of nightblood. And Gaia's circle - they wanted Clarke out of the picture."

"Did Echo know?" Murphy asks. His voice is strained.

"Yes," Madi says quietly. "Lexa was angry that I agreed with them. And then, I sent a message out to Clarke last night, telling her to come back and visit."

"Why?" Octavia asks.

"The Circle assured me they wouldn't hurt her, that I just needed to get her home. She came home, but she knew. Well, she found out."

"Gaia's Circle is staging a coup, of sorts," Octavia states.

"I guess," Madi mutters. 

"Madi, I know there's something you're still hiding, so you better open up," Octavia says.

"The circle wants Clarke gone, and they think, analyzing my dreams and visions, they think that nightblood is going to be very important in what's about to happen. And I don't know what that is. And so, the circle told me that they wanted to get Clarke, talk to Russell-"

"Hold on - talk to Russell? Madi, you're all over the place here, I don't understand what the hell is going on!" Murphy snaps.

Madi covers her eyes, taking deep breaths. "I don't know how to tell you!"

"Where's Clarke?" Bellamy hisses.

"I don't know," Madi murmurs.

Bellamy feels like he's going to scream. This conversation has gotten them absolutely nowhere.

"Okay, maybe we should start over," Bellamy says, struggling to keep his voice even. "We're going to ask you questions, you're going to answer, okay?"

"Okay," Madi says.

"What did the Circle plan?" Murphy asks.

"Take Clarke, talk to Russell. They kept all the data locked in one of the transport ship tablets. Well, I don't know what was on the tablets, actually. But it's important. Clarke found out something was wrong, so she went to look for Gaia. I told her about the tablet, too - once she pushed a little. I'm sure Clarke went to find it. And I'm sure Gaia would know about what she knows as soon as Clarke went into the transport ship. But I don't know, I don't know where she is."

"We got word that Clarke was in trouble - a message sent from the Eligius dashboard-" Octavia says. 

"Had her sobbing, a total mess," Murphy mutters.

"Know anything about that?" Octavia asks.

"No," Madi says, and the fearful glint in her eye confirms that.

"They're going to kill her," Murphy snaps. "That's what they're going to do."

"So we find them," Octavia says. "And we find Clarke-"

"She's right here," a voice says.

They turn. Clarke is standing there, a rivulet of black blood seeping from her hairline.

"Clarke," Madi begins, her eyes wide.

"Not now, Madi," Clarke snaps. "I need Raven. Right the hell now."

"What - why?" Octavia stammers.

Clarke holds up the tablet. "I need to get into this." 

* * *

"Clarke, what the holy fuck is going on?" Bellamy asks.

"Gaia's band of believers is staging a coup. They also just tried to assassinate me. Because they thought I threatened the place of Commander, surprisingly. They say Madi's visions told them this. They were going to use me to get to Russell, take him out, and put Madi in control of all of it."

"What the fuck?" Octavia's voice is shaky.

"That's - that's ambitious," Murphy murmurs.

"And they have everything important to them in this," Clarke says, gesturing wildly to the tablet. "And I need someone to decrypt the code that unlocks it!"

"What happened to Gaia's people?" Madi asks in a small voice.

"I took care of them," Clarke says firmly, not even bothering to stop Bellamy as he wipes the blood away from her cheek. "Damn it, Madi, you shouldn't have kept this from me!" Clarke slams the tablet down on the table, and Bellamy squeezes her shoulder. She shrugs him away, running her hands through her hair. Distantly, Bellamy can hear rain start to pour. "One mess after ano-"

_"Clarke. I hope you're the one listening to this message right now."_

Clarke freezes, her eyes going wide.

Bellamy knows that voice. It still seems oddly merged with Madi's voice, slightly, but it is unmistakable.

Slowly, she turns to the tablet.

"Lexa?" she whispers.

Bellamy's entire body and mind seem to shut down - he barely registers Murphy's hand on his back, trying to steady him.

_"The Flame's capabilities continue to surprise me - I'm sorry I had to completely take over Madi's frontal and temporal lobes of the brain. Hopefully the process was painless. I understand to some degree that Madi was under the influence of some very dangerous people - the Commanders themselves. I don't know what you heard, Clarke, but whatever it is, it probably isn't true. The plan was never to have you out of the way, Clarke. It was to have you in it. The Commanders, Gaia's circle - they want you to be my successor. The trap laid for you was actually meant for Madi - I pray you receive this message before any harm can be done. Clarke, you cannot become the Commander. They will use you, use you to usurp the power of your new leader and have a Commander, a true one, holding the world in the palm of their hand. This had been their idea from the start, even with the danger you posed - but I know now; you must not let it happen._

_"Be safe, Clarke. I love you - there will not be a single lifetime were I don't._ Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim _."_

The tablet goes dark and silent.

 _May we meet again._ Lexa's words break through the mess of his thoughts.

Somewhere in the next lethal crack of thunder, Clarke runs.

* * *

"Clarke!" Murphy's screaming, his voice echoing through the rain. They're all chasing her as she runs, and Murphy reaches her first, touching her shoulder. Clarke violently shrugs him off, then puts her hands on his chest and shoves him away, and Bellamy can't tell whether it's rain or tears on her face.

He runs faster. He is not fast enough.

Clarke disappears around a cabin, past the borders of camp, and that's all there is to it.

* * *

The rain subsides twenty minutes later, the sunsets casting their golden light across the damp grounds.

Bellamy went after her, just a few minutes before the rain passed, and the first sun is disappearing beneath the tops of the trees while the other hovers above, illuminating the young woman standing in the field. Clarke's back is straight and her head is bent, as if she is mourning.

He tries to be as quiet as he can when he reaches her and then he pauses, his fingertips a few inches shy of her back.

He doesn't touch her. He retracts his hand and moves so he is standing in front of her. Bellamy has no idea how to approach this - Lexa used to love her, and Bellamy knows for sure that Clarke loved Lexa. So how can he comfort her for remembering something that had hurt him?

Clarke raises her head. The forest is reflected in her bright eyes, the sun shining just at the tops of her blue irises. 

"Everything I tried to protect her from," Clarke says, her voice terrifyingly steady. "Only for it to all catch up to her, and in the end, mean nothing."

Bellamy opens his mouth, but no words make it past his lips.

Sudden anger flashes in her eyes. "It never meant a damn thing. Your little fucking experiment meant nothing."

And then she pushes him. Bellamy remembers to step back to maintain his balance, backing away from her. And Clarke keeps on advancing, all the light gone from her eyes.

He embraces her - it is all he can do.

Clarke's body collapses against him after a moment, and she's sobbing so violently he fears her body will shatter into a million pieces.

He knows her mind has - he knows Lexa's warbled, tinny voice snapped something in her, an essential tether to sanity.

Clarke's arms are looped around his neck and her face is buried in it, and Bellamy tries, he really does, to hold her tightly as her whole world breaks into a million pieces.

"It meant nothing," she whispers, clenching her fists against the back of his neck, as if it's all her fault.

But Bellamy sees the truth - he knows the fault is his.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Echo breathes, as he and Clarke stride back into camp, their shoulders brushing together with every stride.

"Don't." Clarke's voice is sharper than a knife, and it cuts Echo right open. Clarke goes straight to the others, to Kane, Diyoza, Indra, and Abby, and she tells them everything, even Lexa's message, leaving out the late Commander's declaration of love. "Raven will unlock it," Clarke assures them. Madi is standing in the corner of the mess hall, looking like she wants to speak to Clarke.

Clarke does not turn her way once. 

* * *

Later, when they're getting onto the small plane (Bellamy is still apprehensive when it comes to planes because of his first experience in the other world), he and Murphy fall behind while Octavia and Clarke disappear into it's small, crushing interior.

"I was there when she died," Murphy says, his voice uncharacteristically somber.

"Who?" Bellamy asks quietly. He already knows the answer.

"Lexa."

Bellamy's eyes glue themselves to the ground beneath their feet. "Clarke really loves her, doesn't she?"

"Loved," Murphy corrects, turning his head to face Bellamy, who just sighs. "Lexa's always gonna be in her heart, Bellamy. But that doesn't mean there isn't a place for you in it."

"Don't patronize me," Bellamy says, not an ounce of malice or irritation behind it. He suddenly feels extremely tired. He knows Murphy wasn't patronizing him, but Bellamy says it anyway. 

Murphy, at least, has the good grace to not try and deny it, even though it is simply not true. 

* * *

Clarke stays locked in her house, and Bellamy vaguely remembers that Murphy had given him a key, a long time ago.

"Give her time," Octavia said quietly, when they arrived, as they watched Clarke's door close.

He'd given her four excruciating hours, and then he'd left the house.

He walks down the moonlight sidewalk, one hand in his pocket, his index finger wrapped around the key. But when he reaches the door, he withdraws that hand and uses it to simply knock.

There's a faint click, followed by Clarke's voice, muffled by the door. "It's open."

He turns the knob and slowly pushes the door open, surprised to see her sitting on her stairs, hunched over one of the books she'd gotten.

"I had them narrowed down to the dedrium studies involving human subjects last night, if you remember," she says, her voice betraying no sign of what had happened earlier. 

"Fourteen books full of that," Bellamy says, not sure what else to say.

"Related to that," Clarke mutters.

"You're not going to dodge the topic forever, Clarke."

She glares at him. "I'll try."

Bellamy moves from his spot by the door and goes to sit next to her on the stairs, the entire right side of his body pressed against her left. He nudges her knee. "You're not okay, Clarke. No one can be okay after that."

"You're right," Clarke says, covering a yawn with her mouth (seriously, how long has she been awake?) and closing her eyes. She opens them again, turning her head to Bellamy. "I'm not okay. But the Flame thing isn't an issue right now."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," Bellamy says.

"I know," she admits. "But I am as upset about the lie,  _more_ upset, really, than I am about - about Lexa."

"You love her," Bellamy states, and mentally congratulates himself for not making it sound like an accusation. As much as Clarke's love for someone else had hurt him, his top priority was her happiness. And Lexa had made Clarke happy, he knew that - and that was precisely why he could never hate the Trikru Commander, precisely why he had long since come to terms with their relationship.

"I loved her," Clarke says, correcting him the same way Murphy did. "I just - I'd let her go, Bellamy. But it hit me, I guess, that she'd been so close all along. In Madi. The thought scared me and calmed me and made me angry all at once."

"I'm sorry," he says in a low voice, letting his head fall onto her shoulder. It is likely the sincerest apology he's ever made.

"I know. It's okay," she responds. "I'm just a little shaken up. And pissed."

 _"Really_ pissed," Bellamy says with a humorless laugh. Clarke's head comes to rest on top of his.

"Sorry I shoved you," she says.

"Sorry I shoved an AI into your daughter's head," Bellamy mumbles. Clarke rubs his back. "You don't have to be okay, you know," he says after a long yet comfortable silence.

"I'm not," Clarke mutters. "Okay, I mean. But like I said, it's not a thing. The Flame drama. And I'll recover, okay?"

He turns his head and sighs into her neck. It may be just his imagination, but he thinks he hears her sigh, too.

"When does it qualify as a thing, again?" Bellamy asks.

"Hmm," she murmurs, her fingers tracing his back through his shirt, probably drawing something. "If I come into a position of a shit ton of power that's not in Wonkru, or if I put the Flame inside me again."

"Those seem to be highly unlikely events," Bellamy says, unable to keep his relief at bay.

"You never know," Clarke states simply. "I gotta finish reading these, and it's getting late, okay?"

"It's Saturday night," he mutters, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. 

"And you've got no plans other than to bother me?" Clarke asks, closing the book and setting it down on the step in front of them.

"Suppose not," he mumbles, his eyes hungrily searching all of Clarke's features, noting the dull, bloodshot eyes, the hollow cheeks, the slight frown tugging her lips downward. 

"What?" she asks.

"When did you sleep?" Bellamy asks.

"This again?" Clarke replies with a touch of exasperation. "Last night."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I look at you and I know that's not the last time you slept."

"I slept," Clarke says tiredly.

"I'm gonna ask you again," Bellamy says gently. "When's the last time you slept more than a few minutes?"

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes simmering with defiance.

"Don't bother to lie this time, Clarke," he adds.

She sighs. "Eight nights ago."

His jaw falls open, and he's pretty sure his eyes bug right out of his head. "Are you  _shitting_ me, Clarke? You're fucking telling me the last time you slept through the night was before you decided to sleep alone? Is _that_ why you wanted to sleep alone?"

Clarke presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Bellamy."

She wants to say something, but Bellamy sees that she cannot find the right words.

"I had panic attacks almost every night, after seeing some dream. You never noticed, Bell. You were always asleep."

He sighs, wrapping an arm around his waist. Though his movements are gentle, his tone is dripping with barely suppressed anger. "You could've just told me, Clarke, instead of keeping yourself awake for eight fucking days."

"I slept a little," she says, her cheeks pink with shame.

"Like, an hour, total, in the past week."

"Bellamy."

"Don't  _Bellamy_ me."

"I'm  _sorry,_ Bellamy."

She's biting her lip, staring at him through her dark lashes.

"I should've known," he says, a little more gently. "It was pretty obvious that you hadn't slept in a while."

"I don't  - fucking - want to sleep," she snaps, all her shame disappearing in an instant. "I don't fucking want to relive all of that over and over, every single fucking time I close my eyes."

She stands up, grabbing her book and taking it to a desk. She sets it down and grabs a new one, and Bellamy sighs, standing up as well. He crosses the distance between them in a few long strides, and when he reaches Clarke, he bends and puts one arm around the backs of her knees and wraps the other around the upper half of her torso, picking her up with ease. She is light in his arms, but she makes no effort to help him. She sits in the cradle of his arms, her hands folded in her lap, as she glares at him.

"Put me down." Clarke's voice is firm and commanding, and hell, he almost listens.

Almost.

"Not a chance," he says, a grin teasing his lips, and then, giving Clarke barely more than a few seconds to grab onto his neck before he runs upstairs, Clarke's protests eventually morphing into laughter. He sets her down on the bed before pulling off his own jacket and shoes and joining her, tucking Clarke safely into his side.

"Wake me if you have a nightmare," Bellamy says, putting his forehead in the juncture between her neck and shoulder. "Promise?"

"I promise," Clarke says quietly.

There's a long silence.

"Wait," she says, sounding a little breathless. "I want to show you something."

Her body strains against his arm as she reaches for something on her nightstand, and Bellamy turns his head up to the ceiling.

His breath is stolen after a moment.

"Oh, my god," he breathes. "How'd you do that?"

The ceiling of her room is now glass, or maybe something is projected onto it - whatever it is, the ceiling is now covered in bright nebulae and stars, beautiful, shining stars.

He thought he'd seen enough of the stars from his years spent on the Ark, but no, this proves him wrong.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clarke asks, putting one hand over his joined ones, resting on her stomach.

He turns his head to her, just for a moment. "It is."

They fall asleep with the stars as their light, casting an ethereal glow over Clarke's features, a goddess in his arms, safe from the war of her mind in the haven of his arms.

* * *

Her hand is on his shoulder. Her eyes are wide.

"Bellamy," she breathes, and her chest rises and falls even faster, trying to make up for the air she lost just to say his name.

He gathers her in her arms. "Breathe with me."

"No - I can't-"

"Yes, you can."

Her hand tightens on the fistful of his shirt that it had gathered.

"One breath for every number," he says quietly.

Bellamy feels Clarke nod against his skin, her eyelashes brushing the column of his neck. "One breath for every number."

"One."

She breathes. It is shaky, and he pulls her just a little closer, into his lap, allowing Clarke's knees to come to clasp his sides.

"Two."

This one is a wheezing breath - two breaths, actually. The first one, ending in a sharp gasp, followed by another, slightly less unsteady breath.

"Three."

Her tears splash onto his collarbones. He does not let go.

"Four."

A choked sob escapes Clarke's lips, muffled by his shoulder.

"Five."

This is her steadiest breath, her cheek pressed to his.

The room is unnaturally silent - even Clarke's breathing is quiet.

He lets the silence descend, swallow his thoughts and her fears, until there's not a single sound except the beat of her heart when Bellamy finally lowers his head and sets it on her chest.

* * *

> **rubatosis**
> 
> **_n._  the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a nervous ditty your heart is tapping to itself, the kind that people compulsively hum or sing while walking in complete darkness, as if to casually remind the outside world, _I’m here, I’m here, I’m here._**

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i swear i know what I'm doing even though to some it may not seem that way  
> i really hope this isn't looking as disorganized as I think it is  
> and I promise it'll all connect to...everything else  
> okay i REALLY don't wanna end it here but it's getting long and I'm procrastinating enough so pleeease stay with me and stay long enough for the next chapter


	28. I Feel Like They're Talking in a Language I Don't Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy submerge themselves in the web of lies supporting the queen's reign, and find themselves face to face with an oncoming revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay sorry I didn't update for a long time I had a huge ass project due

"We have to go back," she says, carefully sliding a book back into its place on one of the shelves in the lab library. "I'm not letting her weird _test_ bullshit slide."

"Are we ever going to get a break?" Bellamy mutters, so low that he's sure that Clarke doesn't hear, but she does, and turns to him with a frown.

"Bell, if you don't want to, you don't have to come," she huffs.

He leans forward and rolls his eyes. "Absolutely not."

"Huh?"

"I am  _not_ letting you go anywhere on your own, like, ever again," he declares.

Clarke shrugs, turning her face to hide the slight blush that appears on her cheeks. "I can handle myself."

"I know, and I very much enjoy watching you kick ass, but I don't  _want_ to be away from you," he whines.

"Oh, shut up," Clarke says, the tips of her ears turning bright red. "You're such a fucking  _sap._ I have no clue how you got all those girls to sleep with you when we first landed on Earth."

Bellamy pushes off the shelf, walking closer to Clarke until her back is against the shelf, her chin tilted up.

"Is that a challenge?" he asks, his voice low.

"No," Clarke says, putting one finger against his sternum and pushing him away with a smile nothing short of evil. It startles him - though he knew that her more mischievous side existed, it's another experience entirely to see it.

"It could be," Bellamy shrugs, tucking a lock of golden hair that's escaped from her ponytail behind her ear.

"You're still a total sap," she mutters, blinking. "I'm going to - um. I'm going to go talk to Russell."

Bellamy chuckles, nudging her in the ribs with his elbow. She elbows him back, taking care to step on his toes as she's leaving the library.

* * *

"Alright, so, Raven and Murphy talked to the other Creed siblings, and they both said that Xander's dead. Raven ran a shit ton of scans on them, and they're clean," Clarke says, looking around at everyone. "They're completely unrelated to anything to do with him or the queen, really."

"And you guys are gonna go look for him there?" Emori asks, leaning forward and setting her elbows on the long table.

"It's a start, in the grand scheme of taking down whatever the queen's doing," Bellamy says. "We are technically still doing what Russell asked of us. And though Gemma told us we didn't have to come back, doesn't mean we don't need to - or we aren't allowed to."

"You're on a first-name basis with the queen?" Murphy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"She  _likes_ him," Clarke mutters. Bellamy turns his head just quick enough to catch her roll her eyes.

"That's a whole new level of weird," Octavia says, shuddering. Bellamy sighs and looks up, counting to ten.

"He can use that to his advantage if he really wants to," Clarke says, cutting across the distracted muttering, crossing her arms. "Raven, please look wherever you can for any sign of Xander, okay?"

"On it," Raven replies. "Want me to check Gaia's Eligius tablet, too?"

Bellamy locks eyes with Clarke.

She's still looking at him when she says, "No."

"Well - but-" Octavia splutters.

"I said no," Clarke says. "Drop it."

Bellamy wants to reach out and touch her, but he doesn't. She doesn't seem to want it right now.

"Okay," Bellamy murmurs, really only to break the tense silence that holds the room in its grasp. "How do you think we should stay in contact with you guys while we're gone?"

Shaw grins, pulling out two radios. "Old-fashioned way."

Clarke takes hers, holding hers with reverence. "This is - this is my old radio."

Shaw nods, a twinkle in his eye. "I found it in your house back in the valley. I saved it, but it never occurred to me to give it to you until now."

Clarke looks at her radio, something unfamiliar in her eyes.

_(the radio calls!)_

Did she happen to record the radio calls?

As if sensing the way he's looking at her radio, Clarke glances and Bellamy and tucks her radio out of sight, absentmindedly biting her lip.

"Thanks, Zeke," she says quietly.

"On a more unrelated note," Murphy says loudly, glancing at Clarke. She nods almost imperceptibly at him, a small nod of thanks. "Do you guys even have any idea of what the queen could want?"

"There's no way of knowing whether she was being truthful, though," Bellamy protests, but is cut off by Clarke.

"Similarities in our memories of our respective alternate realities," she says, reaching out and pinching Bellamy's wrist. He looks at her, and she gives him a condescending look. Sighing, Bellamy rolls his eyes. "And, as we told you, the one connection between or memories is Xander Creed. He's important, somehow."

_But that wasn't the only connection, was it?_

_(Lux and Tenebris)_

_("I've heard that before.")_

He lets the conversation peter out and waits for everyone to trickle out of the room before turning to the woman beside him. "Do you remember where you heard about Lux and Tenebris before?"

Clarke narrows her eyes and knits her brows together, clearly thinking hard.

"No," she finally says, sighing and looking down. "I really don't remember. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Bellamy murmurs, turning away.

"But there's a way I could remember," Clarke adds, causing him to look at her again. She looks straight into his eyes, trying to convey some meaning using just her expression.

And, of course, he understands.

"No," Bellamy snaps. "Absolutely not."

"It was specifically designed for retaining memories," Clarke says. 

"Yeah, well, as far as we know, Gemma's the only one who has one!" Bellamy pleads, the last word making his voice rise an octave. He looks down at Clarke's hands, which are actually now closed fists, and pulsing.

He watches the movement almost hypnotically, before reaching out and taking one of her hands within his own. "What's this mean?" he asks softly, tapping her fist.

"Huh? Oh," she says quietly, looking down at their joined hands. She sighs, her breath suddenly alarmingly shaky. "I got headaches."

Bellamy's not seeing the connection here, so he remains silent, waiting for her to move on.

"Back there," she says gently. "The headaches were like pulsing and pounding inside my head. And they never gave me anything for it, no matter how much I - told them to."

Bellamy sighs.

"The movement of my hands match my headaches," she says, her voice a little clear, her tone shifting from scared to clinically calculating. Detached, stating factual evidence, and colder than ice. "It's therapeutic."

"It's-" Bellamy stutters. "It's not-"

And then he crushes her into a hug, sighing into her hair. "The headaches never stopped, did they?" he asks, feeling her breathe against his chest.

"They never will," Clarke murmurs, gently pushing him away. Her hands dangle limply at her sides now, still and unmoving.

Bellamy touches her hair, winding a lock of it around his finger, being as gentle as possible so he doesn't actually pull her hair. Clarke watches his fingers with slight apprehension, and seems to sigh when he finally pulls his finger away.

It makes his heart ache, that despite everything-

_(stop don't think like that)_

_(just work with her)_

He scoffs inwardly. As if Clarke's a fragile, broken glass vase that has hastily been taped back together.

_(that's exactly what she is)_

But he's still not used to being this careful around her.

She's strong - it's impossible for Bellamy to live in a life where she is not.

"God, Clarke, I..." he murmurs.

And then he crushes her into his arms, breathing her in, keeping her close.

"It's okay," she says softly. "It's okay." 

* * *

"Hotels," Clarke mutters angrily under her breath. "It always starts with  _hotels."_

"Huh?" Bellamy asks.

She sighs, stepping into the rainy Aurora air. "Hotels make me nervous."

Bellamy can't help it - he dissolves into laughter.

"Hey, what the hell?" Clarke says indignantly, jabbing her elbow into his ribs. 

"Hotels are like, the most harmless places ever," Bellamy says.

"Yeah, but they make me feel weird," Clarke argues. "They've got an ominous sort of vibe to them."

"You're funny," Bellamy says, bumping his shoulder into hers.

"Hilarious," she replies dryly. "You still not letting me go into a memory machine?"

"No."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not letting you  _let_ me do anything," Clarke replies, steely determination edging her words.

Bellamy sighs, rubbing his temples. "It's not safe, Clarke. We don't even know where to find one."

"Yeah, we do," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Seriously, when'd you become such an idiot?" Bellamy says exasperatedly.

"It's not idiotic, Bellamy," Clarke says in that matter-of-fact voice he used to hate so much. "It's just straightforward. Risky, but straightforward."

"Clarke, we don't know the first thing to do here," Bellamy implores. "And also, Lux and Tenebris are more of a backup at this point. Our priority is finding Xander, understanding his place in Gemma's plot."

"But I know I heard it there!" Clarke says. "I don't remember when or why, but Lux and Tenebris was in my memories. Somehow," she adds quietly, as an afterthought, shaking away droplets of rain that have slipped past her hood and onto her face. "I know we're considering it to be backup right now, but it's important, Bellamy. I can  _feel_ it, and I know that's impossible to believe and even more impossible to explain, but I just know that means something."

"Maybe," he concedes. "But so does Xander."

"So does Xander," Clarke agrees, looking up and searching the skyline for the hotel they're supposed to stay at. "And we need to make a plan for that, too."

"How about we go to the site where he was last seen?" Bellamy supplies. "Cordelia Heights?"

"I don't know if that's in Aurora country, but that's a good idea," Clarke says, opening the door for him and pushing him inside and away from the rain. "And then we should search Aurora databases for Xander Creed. Fires, and, of course, dedrium."

"Did you ever find anything interesting in the books from Russell's library?" Bellamy asks.

"Not really," Clarke mutters. 

“It’s all just a bunch of theoretical bullshit. Apparently, what classifies as human tests in the dedrium department is tests done by humans.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Bellamy says. “You narrowed down the field, so what were those books even about?”

Clarke doesn’t reply, as she turns to the receptionist and checks in to the hotel. She doesn’t speak to him again until they’re out of a small glass elevator and looking for their room.

“Not necessarily all about testing the effects of dedrium on the human body. The _evolved_ human body,” she amends. "It has me thinking..."

"What?" Bellamy pushes, walking into their room, taking in the spacious quarters.

"From everything that I've read, dedrium seems to be extremely dangerous. I think it's just a matter of ethics. Maybe. Maybe the prospect of testing such an unstable and powerful substance on humans is just... wrong," Clarke murmurs, collapsing onto one of the beds.

"So you're saying," Bellamy says, sitting down on the bed next to hers. "Xander taking the force of the blast is the only known case of humans being affected by dedrium."

"Maybe," Clarke says softly, sitting up and flexing her fingers. "God, where do we even start? Xander's turning into a dead end, you don't want to go further into the towers-"

Bellamy sighs to himself. "It's not safe, Clarke."

"I'm not a child, Bellamy, I can handle myself," she shoots back.

"You think I don't know that?" he asks quietly.

Clarke raises herself up on one elbow, looking deeply into his eyes. "You can't just keep me away from anything remotely dangerous, Bellamy. That's not how our lives work."

"Do you have any idea what you've been through?" he asks. "Our lives shouldn't be about just surviving."

She flinches and turns away.

"It is now," Clarke says, her voice filled with undeniable sorrow and rage.

He doesn't really understand it - sure, he's been through a lot, too, but he doesn't just want to survive, now that he's gotten a taste of what it's like to  _live._

Besides, isn't that what Clarke used to want, more than anything?

To live?

"It won't have to be," Bellamy implores. "If we can just walk away now."

She sits up. "What are you suggesting?"

"We could just go to Russell and tell him we won't do it," Bellamy says, leaning forward. "Clarke, we're in a good place now. A safe home, a guarantee of tomorrow. We don't have to fight a war that doesn't even exist."

"No," Clarke says. "We have to end it."

"Why are you so hell-bent on being the hero?" Bellamy snaps.

"It's not about being the hero, Bellamy!" she cries. "What if something is going horribly wrong? What if we walk away now, and by the time a potential problem escalates into a full-blown war, maybe even another apocalypse, and it's too late for us to do something? I'm not doing this just because I fucking get off on saving everyone's ass, okay? I'm doing this because I'm actually trying to think ahead, because right now, that's the only way we survive!"

Bellamy tries to think of something to say, but nothing comes.

"You can walk away if you'd like," Clarke says decisively. "I won't."

"I'm not walking away from you," he declares hotly.

"You insist on being my bodyguard because you think I'm unfit for anything but you're not willing to do what's right," she hisses. "You have to work with me  _somewhere,_ Bellamy. Just meet me in the middle."

"I don't think you're-" Bellamy starts.

"Don't even  _try_ to deny it, Bellamy," Clarke says indignantly. Then, in a low mutter. "I see the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

"Because I'm worried about you," Bellamy pleads, but he feels like he's said it so many times that it's become meaningless to both of them.

"You want me to be at peace, Bellamy?" Clarke asks, and Bellamy feels like he's walking into a trap, but he tells her the truth, because the truth is all he has left to give.

"Yes."

"Then  _help_ me," she says softly, turning back to him, sitting up, and reaching out to take his hand. 

 _"E-Four to Griffin, do you copy?"_ Raven's voice chimes from Clarke's radio in her backpack. She digs it out and holds it close.

"Yeah, we copy," Clarke says. "Everything good?"

_"Yep, just checkin' out how it's looking from your end. You guys check into the hotel?"_

"We're good on that," Clarke replies, meeting Bellamy's eyes.

_"Cool. How's Tall, Dark, and Handsome?"_

"Please don't call me that," Bellamy murmurs weakly.

"Please don't call him that," Clarke relays. "It's making  _me_ uncomfortable. Doesn't that make you uncomfortable?"

_"I slept with him. It's bitter irony."_

Clarke tilts her head at Bellamy, still looking him straight in the eyes. It's taking a bit of effort on his part not to squirm under her burning gaze.

"I knew it," Clarke says, looking like she's holding back a smirk. 

_"What the fuck? BELLAMY! When'd you tell her?"_

"Probably before Praimfaya," Bellamy says, swallowing.

"No, I just knew. After Finn and I came back.  _And_ Bellamy told me," Clarke says. Bellamy concludes he was probably intoxicated when he told her.

_"Snitch."_

"So how is it irony if you thought he was handsome enough for you have sex with him?" Clarke says, with amused disinterest.

_"Because he's annoying as shit. And the reasons we did the do."_

"The reason  _you_ initiated it," Bellamy corrects her loudly. "I was just minding my business."

_"Oh, we all know you were moping over-"_

"ANYWAYS!" Bellamy yells, effectively cutting her off. Clarke arches an eyebrow.

"What's this, Bellamy?" Clarke asks. "Had a secret crush on Finn?"

"Maybe. Born purely out of hate for the stupid fucker," he replies.

_Obviously not._

Clarke, despite her joking attitude, looks slightly uncomfortable at the mention of the spacewalker, and Raven seems to notice, too. And even Reyes doesn't seem to keen to talk about it. Bellamy silently chides himself for being so senseless.

 _"Anyways,"_ Raven continues.  _"Is there anything you guys need?"_

"Tech," Clarke says, slipping into responsible-leader mode immediately. "The queen had a machine that could help retain memories, and that could help us a lot. And also, could you get a location on the Cordelia Heights apartment? Where it used to be?"

_"Give me one second."_

Clarke clicks the radio off for a moment, staring at Bellamy.

He scowls.

"No stone unturned," Clarke murmurs gently to him. "Lux and Tenebris are worth a shot."

"They worth your sanity?" he spits.

"My sanity is fine," she snaps.

_"Hey, Clarke? The apartment is halfway across the country, looking at Russell's old PTM records. As for tech, I may have a lead on that."_

"What?" Clarke asks in evident disbelief. "You do?"

_"You guys aren't the only ones undercover. There's a crazy shadow-economy of high tech, emphasis on the stuff used in the Royal Lab. And they've got an event tonight. Apparently called the Diamond Convention."_

Clarke doesn't bother to look at Bellamy this time. "Where? When?"

 _"Starts at eleven tonight, and it's at the Jensen Hotel, just a few blocks over. You guys should find it easily enough_ , _or just take a cab. Dude, there are cars that are just gonna drive you over there, without a driver."_

"There a dress code?" Bellamy drawls, half-joking.

 _"As a matter of fact,"_ Raven says smugly from the radio.  _"We ordered some fancy clothes, and they're being delivered to you as we speak."_

"Not another suit," Bellamy moans.

 _"Man up,"_ Raven says decisively, and there's a knock at the door.

"Thanks, Raven," Clarke says. "We'll radio if we need you."

Bellamy gets up and goes to the door to open it, to find a neat white box at his feet. He picks it up as if it holds a bomb, and carefully pries open the lid.

Another suit. Raven sure had a sense of humor.

"Get dressed," he mutters, tossing a heap of dark blue silk at her that must be her attire, then pauses stupidly to think about how fucking good she's gonna look.

"That goes for you, too," Clarke says, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Bellamy sighs quietly to himself.  _This is not going to end well._

* * *

Clarke crosses her arms. "Think this is a good idea?"

"Are you kidding me?" Bellamy asks. "I'm serious. Are you kidding me?"

She laces her fingers with his and he tries to ignore the heat the contact spreads through his body.

"Let's go," she says softly, and leads them into the bright glass structure that serves as the entrance and reception of the building. 

A burly, serious looking man stands in front of one of the dark hallways leading away from the main area, so naturally, Clarke heads for him.

"How many languages do you speak?" she asks suddenly.

He finds that he's startled by the question. "Um, three."

"Impressive," Clarke mutters. "Name them."

"English."

"That doesn't count, Bellamy!"

"Latin?"

"Latin's a dead language!"

"And a little bit of French."

"Comprenez-vous ce que je dis, alors?" Clarke asks.

"You speak French?" he asks.

"You clearly don't," she mutters. "How's your Trig?"

"It's okay."

"Good," she mutters, and smiles up at the man. "We're here for the Diamond Convention." 

"Hold out your right index fingers," the man demands.

"Emo gaf in oso..." Clarke starts.  _They want our..._

"Chit?"  _What?_

She shakes her head. They hold their fingers out, and press them to a thin tablet.

The man nods at them and steps aside, and Bellamy takes that as a cue to step into the unknown.

* * *

"This is kinda terrifying," Bellamy murmurs to Clarke.

"You remember what the memory machine looked like, don't you?" Clarke asks, ignoring his qualms. "Look for it."

"I am," he mutters, his eyes scanning the place, weaving through the forest of intimidatingly formal people. "I - wait. Do you see that?"

A group of people all wearing the same shade of blue as Clarke's dress slowly find each other, conversing in hushed voices. Men and women, old and young, all speaking quietly, all with darting eyes. 

Lingering on the exits.

"Those people," Clarke breathes beside him. "Who are they?"

"Think the queen sent them?" Bellamy asks. 

"They would've had the insignia tattoo, unless..." Clarke says.

"Unless what?" he pushes.

"I don't know, but nothing good."

The people in blue migrate through the large hall, all of them squeezing into a narrow hallway and disappearing.

"This isn't a coincidence," Clarke mutters, grabbing Bellamy's wrist.

"Please tell me you're not thinking of going after them," Bellamy says in a low hiss. "There's no point."

"There might be," she whispers back, and they head for the hallway. This one's so dark he can barely see the outline of Clarke's body, but the pulsing lights of the place they just left guide them.

He hears footsteps, heading towards them, and Bellamy tugs them into a dark alcove without thinking.

"Please play along," he begs, before wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing her into the wall. Without warning, he bends his head to place a small kiss to her collarbone.

 _"What the holy fuck are you doing?"_ she asks, but her arms immediately wrap around his neck. "I'm going to kill you -  _oh."_ Her words melt into a small groan as he buries his nose in the crook of her neck.  _"I hate you."_

"Stop talking and at least pretend to enjoy this," Bellamy breathes into her neck. "If anyone walks by we'll just look like a couple of idiots making out in dark corner." 

She moans when he pretends to kiss her jaw, and Bellamy finds himself wondering whether it's entirely fake. "Is that better?" she snaps as quietly as she can, tilting her head up.

"I'm not even doing anything," he protests.

"Yeah, well you're extremely close for no reason," she mutters.

"Not dying is a  _pretty_ good reason," Bellamy murmurs, and listens to the footsteps recede. He lets go of her, and in the dim light, he thinks she's blushing.

"You should  _warn_ me next time," Clarke grumbles.

"So there's gonna be a next time," he smirks.

Clarke just walks away.

* * *

 It's a meeting in a small, cramped room. They linger by the door, out of sight, letting the hushed voices overtake them.

"Mallory, you got anything?"

"Nope. The queen's lab rats left a while ago, and I haven't heard much since then."

"Damn it. We have no idea what the hell she's up to."

"What else is new?'

"You're the one who refused to let the queen's sister be an asset!"

"Well, she lives in the palace itself! She'll get her ass caught!"

"Living in the palace is the perfect opportunity!"

"Her sister's gonna turn."

"Yeah, well, taking it down from the inside is a far better way than taking the monarchy down from the outside!"

"Keep your voice down, Jamal!"

Clarke glances at Bellamy, and he widens his eyes.

_Forget the tech._

"But I agree with him. An implosion's better than explosion."

"With what we have, we're nowhere near collapsing an entire government system, Mallory."

"A corrupted one," a new voice snaps. "The queen sits on a throne of circumstances and lies."

"And vows of silence, Kaia. And the ones who were  _silenced."_

"I say we reach out to her sister," Kaia pushes. "We're running out of time."

"Heda won't stand for it!"

Clarke raises a hand to her mouth.

"Is this some sort of cult or something?" Bellamy whispers in disbelief, the word echoing in his head.  _Heda. Heda. Heda._

"She's not a real Heda! She doesn't have darkblood!"

_Darkblood. Nightblood._

"We're still scarce on options, no matter what your wannabe god says," Kaia says. "And I can't do this alone. One can't change the tide."

 _"But the tide can be turned by many,"_ everyone else in the room says at once, and Clarke turns to him.

"It's not a cult, Bellamy," she says softly. "It's the resistance."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU GUYS SEE THE SEASON SIX TRAILER THAT SHIT IS C R A Z Y


	29. And They're Talking It To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds himself about to be swallowed into the ranks of the resistance. Meanwhile, he questions Clarke's seemingly obsessive dedication to the mission.

"We have to go," he urges her, yanking Clarke away from the door. "Right fucking now."

"Wait - what about the memory machine?" she asks, jerking her arm away from his grasp. "We need it!"

"Didn't you hear what they said?" Bellamy asks. "Heda, Clarke! You're not safe here!"

And then he grabs her and runs.

"Bellamy, don't!" she snaps, once they're safely embedded in the swirling crowd. He ignores her protests, dragging her roughly towards the entrance. "WAIT!"

He pauses and turns around to face her. "What?"

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I promise I'll come back. Go." And then she pulls away from his grip. 

"Clarke?" he asks, reaching out to her. "We don't have time for this!"

"I promise! I'll come back!" she backs away. "Go!"

And then she runs, disappearing into the crowd.

"Clarke!" he yells, trying to fight through the dense tangle of people. She's smaller than he is, so it must have been easier for her to slip through the small gaps.

He'll never find her. Not here. Not if she doesn't want to be found.

Bellamy turns his head, and sees a tall, dark man in a suit, standing with his arms crossed.

On his wrist, the queen's insignia shines.

_Clarke. He needs Clarke._

Bellamy turns his back and he wills himself to move faster, and doesn't dare breathe until he's out of the building. 

* * *

He should keep waiting. 

He's been back at the hotel for about forty-five minutes now, pacing in front of the door, and he's  _infuriated._

There's no way of knowing where Clarke is, what she's doing, whether she's even alive, and all because of one reckless impulse.

_What if?_

He grabs his radio from a table. "Blake to E-Four, does anybody copy?"

Bellamy waits, even though an answer doesn't come for a while.

 _"Hello?_ Does  _any_ one copy?"

_"Johnathan Alexander Murphy here, at your service."_

"We have a problem," Bellamy says.

_"Where's Clarke?"_

"That is the problem."

_"She didn't - what happened?"_

"She left, okay?" Bellamy snaps. "Queen's men showed up, and she left while we were trying to escape. She didn't want to give up on the memory machine."

_"It's past midnight now, Bellamy. What were you guys doing so long in there?"_

"That's another problem."

_"Big enough that you couldn't do what you needed to?"_

"There's another group of people, Murphy," Bellamy sighs. "There's a resistance, and they're trying to bring the queen down."

There's a long silence, and Bellamy opens his mouth to ask if Murphy's still there, but Murphy speaks up.

_"Oh."_

* * *

He hears a bang on the door fourteen minutes past one.

Bellamy stands up immediately, fuming. Clarke stands on the other side of the door, looking perfectly fine except for the line of dried black blood near the edge of her eyebrow.

"I have a good explanation," she says.

He pulls her into the room. "What the actual fuck were you thinking?"

"Listen, that's not important," Clarke pushes. "We have something better than a memory machine. And I know what to do about the resistance."

"This  _is_ important!" he implores. "Clarke, what's gotten into you lately?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, wiping her dried blood off her face. 

"You're  _obsessed_ with this mission, with Creed!" Bellamy snaps. "You're being insane and reckless and stupid and this  _isn't you, Clarke!"_

She's silent, her face turning away from his.

"Clarke?" he asks. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, alright?" she says. "I won't do it again." Bellamy opens his mouth to protest, but she pulls out two small objects from a pocket in her dress. "These are small electrodes based on the memory retainer's capabilities."

"It's like a more advanced version of what Gemma had?" Bellamy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Clarke says. "This underground economy - it's  _crazy."_

"So all we have to do is just put them on and look for where Lux and Tenebris were mentioned in your memory? And then what? Figure out some sort of connection?"

"It all sounds like a long shot, but yeah," Clarke says, holding a wire up with one electrode connected to each end. "This can connect you to me."

"What did you do to get these?" Bellamy asks, picking up one end and examining it in the palm of his hand. 

"I stole them," Clarke says a little sheepishly. "During a bit of a distraction."

"What was the distraction?" Bellamy pushes. 

"The Resistance started attacking the queen's men," Clarke says, putting one electrode against her temple. She guides him to the small dining table, and they sit across from each other. "Put yours on."

With a sigh, Bellamy presses the small bit of cool metal against his head, and closes his eyes. 

* * *

_Everything is black, and not just the black of closed eyes. He can feel Clarke near him, but that's it._

_It's not just black, actually - he's standing in a dark hallway. His eyes slowly adjust to the dark, noting the strange strip of glass at his feet._

_It's light._

_A light, and it suddenly flashes white, bathing the hallway in a dim glow._

_"Clarke?" he whisper-shouts. "Where-?"_

_A figure bolts past him, short blonde hair flying, and it's her, the memory of her. He follows, but eventually turns around to see a familiar man, Xander Creed, running after her. Bellamy tries to hold him off, but his hands go right through Creed's body. So Bellamy just decides to follow Clarke, who is evidently searching for an exit._

_She finally reaches a door, as white as the light set into the floor, and she shakes the doorknob. Xander reaches them and grabs her, and Clarke lets out a scream, kicking and punching at anything she can find.`_

_"Don't fight me, Clarke," Creed whispers, almost lovingly, in her ear. "We need you."_

_"I'm going to kill you!" Clarke screeches, her voice raspy, scratching his arms, kicking at his knees as Creed lifts her up. The action makes Creed loosen his grip just a little bit, and apparently just enough for Clarke. She wrenches her body out of his grip and punches him in the nose. Creed recovers quickly and rounds on her, arms slightly outstretched, and Clarke brings her leg up in an arcing kick that hits him square in the side of the face. Creed, however, doesn't seem remotely pained or tired, whereas Clarke, who seems to be very weak at this moment, slowly loses her strength, and eventually falls into Creed's arms._

_"I've got you," Creed says, stroking her hair, and Bellamy wants to cut all his fingers off one by one. Creed lifts one of his wrists, the one with a watch, to his mouth, and gently murmurs, "Initiate D-protocol. Prep transport to Lux and Tenebris lab."_

_Then Creed looks back down at Clarke, who looks dazed. "We're going to make you into something beautiful, Clarke."_

_"Go to hell," she says weakly, her voice cracking._

_"Hell is empty," Creed murmurs, pulling out a syringe and slowly pushing it into Clarke's neck, "and all the devils are here."_

* * *

"D-protocol," Clarke says, her eyes snapping open with a gasp. Bellamy tears the electrode of his temple and pulls Clarke's off, too.

"What's D-Protocol?" Bellamy asks, feeling extremely drained from reliving Clarke's memories.

"D, D, D," Clarke murmurs, closing her eyes. "I heard-"

She pauses, opening her eyes again.

"What?" Bellamy asks.

"Dedrium," she whispers. "Oh, god, oh,  _fuck-"_

"Clarke, can you please tell me what's going on here?" Bellamy asks weakly, putting his head in his hands.

"Lux and Tenebris, a lab, government towers, and a protocol involving dedrium," Clarke says. "Aren't you seeing it?"

"Uh, no?" Bellamy says, blearily opening one eye. 

Clarke stands up so suddenly that the chair wobbles. "Lux and Tenebris is some lab or some protocol sponsored by the government, or the monarchy, and they're doing something with dedrium."

"Okay, but how do we know that stuff in an alternate universe absolutely exists in the real world?" Bellamy asks, leaning back in his chair. "We're putting a lot of hope on unreasonable things."

"Gemma said the universe was created based on our own thoughts, but you and I both saw things that we had no connection to, and we both saw the same things. A few. So what if Gemma's on the right track, but wrong? What if the universe was created based on the actual world around us  _and_ our thoughts and memories?"

"That makes a bit more sense, but I feel like there's something else," Bellamy says, trying to read the look in her eyes.

"It's not very substantial," Clarke murmurs, starting to pace. "But it's possible..."

"What is?" 

"Gemma might not have been the one who made the Speculo," Clarke says softly. "What if - what if it was a sign? A signal, a call for help, for someone to bring her down? And then Gemma got wind of the existence of this - this  _thing,_ and tried to pass it all off as some experiment. And she wanted our memories, to see if there was something that could expose her."

Bellamy gazes at her in silence.

"It's crazy, I know," Clarke says. "But Bellamy, if I'm right - this could explain  _everything."_

After a long moment, Bellamy shakes himself out of his stupor a little bit and asks, "What's D-Protocol?"

Clarke, looking slightly annoyed with his slow reaction, huffs and replies, "They were going to experiment on me using dedrium. I think."

"So what was it with you having to kill me and then me having to kill you?"

Clarke's face goes whiter than a sheet. "I - I don't know. Keeping me lucid. Testing my brain, or something."

"But you almost escaped," Bellamy says, tilting his head. 

"You call that an attempt at escape?" Clarke scoffs. "Xander found me, anyway."

Bellamy nods to himself, trying to process all of her information.

"So what do you suggest we do now?" he finally asks, unable to think of anything better to say.

"We need to become part of the Resistance," Clarke whispers, looking up at the ceiling. "We need to understand the message, and whoever sent it will most likely be part of the Resistance or at least known by them."

"We can't just automatically decide that this is a message!" Bellamy says, a touch of desperation creeping into his voice.

Clarke sighs, running her hands through her hair. _"Fucking_ \- okay. We can at least find out, can't we?"

"Yeah," Bellamy concedes, pressing his head to the table. "I guess." Then his head snaps back up. "You are  _not_ joining the Resistance."

"What?" she hisses. "You don't get to decide-"

"You have helped  _enough,"_ Bellamy says, standing up and walking over to her. Softening his tone, he says, "I'm saying it sincerely. But you've also gotten yourself into too much danger over this, and I can't let you have all the fun, can I?"

His tone is joking, but he hopes he can convey how concerned he is for her.

"Then what, Bellamy?" Clarke asks helplessly.

"Simple," Bellamy says, walking over to his bed.  _"I'll_ join."

* * *

He somehow wakes up earlier than Clarke, who's sleepy is oddly rested, judging by the serene look on her face when Bellamy glances over at her bed. She must've been tired last night.

He goes to pick up the radio. "Bellamy to E-Four, does anyone copy?"

 _"Where's Clarke?"_ Raven's voice is urgent.

"She's here, she's safe," Bellamy says quietly, looking at the woman in question. 

_"What the hell happened? Murphy told me she-"_

"Yeah," Bellamy mutters. Clarke slowly wakes up, sitting up and staring blearily at him. He gestures towards the radio and Clarke mouths  _Raven?_

Bellamy nods.

She nods to herself before walking into the bathroom.

_"What did she do?"_

"She took matters into her own hands," Bellamy grumbles, staring reproachfully at her bed. "But we have some crazy plan out of it, so maybe it's not all bad."

_"Crazy plan? Her?"_

"I'm going to join the Resistance that focused on collapsing an entire monarchy, so yeah. Just a little crazy."

_"And you guys aren't telling Russell about this?"_

"Guess not," Bellamy mutters, shaking his head. "This definitely doesn't come with right or wrong answers about what to do."

_"Yeah. You're gonna be safe, though, won't you?"_

"'Course, Reyes."

_"I'm gonna be really pissed if I lose two of my best friends."_

"You won't."

* * *

He and Clarke are on the train, heading towards the public library. Well, he's going to the library. Clarke intends to get off when the train reaches the building where the convention was held.

"Why there?" he'd asked her.

"Tech," she'd answered, and hadn't elaborated.

Clarke offers him a small smile before leaving him, and as she's leaving, a young woman with sharp eyes and golden hair gets on, and comes to stand next to Bellamy. She's talking to herself, but Bellamy soon realizes that's not the case - there's a strange device in her ear.

Her voice is familiar.

"Alright, alright. Bye," the woman says, tapping the device, then taking it out of her ear and putting it in her bag.

_It's Kaia. The voice is Kaia's._

"Tough call, wasn't it?" Bellamy murmurs in a low voice to her.

"None of your business," the woman, who is most definitely Kaia,  _she has to be,_ says, without even looking at him.

"Yeah, well, you're radiating your annoyed energy. It isn't healthy," Bellamy murmurs.

Kaia looks up at him with a slightly irritated smile. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"No one," Bellamy answers. "In a city full of no ones."

"No one's no one," Kaia says wryly. After a beat of silence. "I'm Kaia."

"Bellamy."

She tilts her head to the side, as if considering the name. "Fair friend, beautiful friend."

"Hmm?" Bellamy asks.

"That's what your name means," Kaia explains. "Fair friend, beautiful friend. And you definitely achieve that pretty boy status."

She says it as if it's a bad thing.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted," Bellamy murmurs.

"Same thing in this shithole," Kaia says, then turns her head as if to see if anyone heard her.

"You're paranoid, aren't you?" Bellamy observes.

"Everyone who lives here should be paranoid," Kaia declares, then she looks straight into Bellamy's eyes. Her own eyes are deep green, with a ring of gold around her pupils. "Aren't you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Bellamy says, turning to the window. "I like to think that things might change in my lifetime."

His eyes flicker over to her then, hoping for some reaction.

"Ha," she scoffs. "And what's a guy like you gonna do about the Big Brother who wears a crown?" She turns away and murmurs, softly, almost absentmindedly, "One can't change the tide." Her prayer, her mantra, her agenda.

"But the tide can be turned by many," Bellamy whispers as he bends his head down, so low that he knows only she can hear it.

Kaia pauses, looking at him once again.

There are a lot of emotions in her eyes at that moment.

Fear.

Surprise. 

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Kaia asks in a quiet voice.

"Depends," Bellamy murmurs as the train stops again, the doors sliding open. "Are you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i havent been consistent about updating this so forgive me if this chapter has been a little (extremely) rusty quality wise


	30. So You Take a Picture of Something You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy learns the whereabouts of the Resistance.

Kaia sighs, looking at the open door. "Can I trust you?" she asks Bellamy, her thin fingers latching onto his wrist.

"Of course you can't," Bellamy replies, slightly stunned by the stupidity of the question.

"Good," she says, releasing Bellamy and walking towards the door. "If you are what you imply you are, or you really want what I think you want, follow me."

He doesn't hesitate - he follows her. 

* * *

Bellamy misses Clarke. It's weird. He misses her after being away from her for a few minutes.

But maybe it's fair, considering the aftermath of Praimfaya and the stress of the Speculo.

"Where are we going?" he asks Kaia.

"I don't trust you enough to tell you. Yet," she adds, with a critical glare at Bellamy. Kaia's  _young -_ she can't be older than nineteen or twenty.

Someone would assume her to be older if they hadn't seen her face first - her general attitude, in terms of the way she talks, makes one think that she's done and seen it all.

Who knows? Maybe she has.

He follows Kaia to another train station, a smaller, cleaner one. "More trains?" he asks skeptically.

"Train and boat are the only way to get where we need to go," Kaia says simply, heading towards one of the trains.

"Boat?" Bellamy asks. "Why a boat?"

"I  _said,_ I don't trust you enough to tell you," Kaia snaps, grabbing onto a pole as the train starts to move.

Bellamy huffs, his stomach lurching a bit as the train goes down, into some sort of underground tunnel system.

"How old are you?" Kaia asks suddenly, looking at him with that x-ray like stare.

"Ten," Bellamy replies dryly.

"No, really," Kaia says, putting a hand in the pocket of her overlarge sweatshirt. "How old?"

"Twenty-something," Bellamy says, looking down at the floor. "Biologically."

"Biologically," Kaia says with a laugh. "You're funny. I'd look at you and say twenty-three, twenty-four? Am I right?"

"Twenty-eight or twenty-nine," Bellamy corrects. 

"Yikes," Kaia mutters. "Don't fracture your hips, old man."

"I've known you for like, ten minutes and you're already calling me an old man?"

"Oh, sorry, guess I should've remembered to  _respect my elders,"_ Kaia says.

"Well, how old are you?" Bellamy asks scornfully. "Nine?"

"Teen," Kaia adds on. "Nineteen."

"Close enough," Bellamy adds snarkily at the young woman. 

Kaia sighs, and they spend the rest of the relatively short train ride in silence.

Bellamy lets out a breath of relief when he feels the train rising again, but his stomach turns again when he sees what waits outside the window.

There's just blue, for miles and miles. 

For a moment, Bellamy imagines that Clarke's next to him, mapping out the ocean in her head, taking it all in.

He wonders what she could've done with a pencil and a few colors, bringing the whole world to life with just her hands.

"The Darwinian Ocean," Kaia says softly, with reverence, like this is her favorite place in the entire universe. When Bellamy walks out of the train, he's greeted with an ominous sight. The train station, and a whole, ruined city, it seems, is located on a huge deck that apparently stretches for miles.

"What is this place?" Bellamy asks, as he and Kaia walk towards the towers with great chunks blown out of them.

"Ocean Sector," Kaia explains. "What's left of it."

"What happened?" Bellamy asks, inhaling the salty sea air.

"The bombing," Kaia says somberly, still walking towards the towering ruins. There are a few modern, untouched buildings at the edge of the city, but nothing beyond that.

"Bombing," Bellamy repeats softly, feeling slightly dizzy. If he turns his head left or right, he can only see the ocean. He turns his head back to where they came from, and if he squints a little, he thinks he can see the coastline, the cities stretching towards the clouds. "Why? When?"

"Twenty-four years ago," Kaia says. "The queen ordered an airstrike because of the First Rebellion. Ocean Sector, one of the biggest and most advanced sectors of Aurora, rose up and tried to take the queen down. So she put an end to it."

"So this is where your top secret Resistance base is?" Bellamy asks in disbelief. "The burnt-out ruins of a city that got ruined for being a Resistance base?"

"So  _twitchy,"_ Kaia says exasperatedly, walking a little faster. A small white building, barely big enough for three people to stand in, seems to act as a gateway between the intact buildings and the Ruins.

"How'd they contain blasts big enough to mess up this big of a city?" Bellamy asks.

Kaia doesn't answer - she strides up to the small building, and stands in front of one the walls, which is made entirely made out of glass.

"Kaia Theron and Bellamy..."

 _"Blake,"_ he whispers.

"Bellamy Blake," Kaia says to the stout man on the other side of the glass. There's a long, tense minute of silence.

"Bellamy Blake isn't on the list," the man says, glaring at Kaia.

"Piss off, Ranger," Kaia snaps. "He's a recruit."

"Sure he ain't one of the queen's bastards?" the man, Ranger, hisses.

Kaia grabs Bellamy's right hand and yanks down the sleeve of his jacket, holding it up so she can expose his wrist to Ranger. 

"See a tat, Ranger?" Kaia asks impatiently.

"No," Ranger grumbles. "He stayin'?"

"I don't  _know,_ Ranger!"

"Well,  _ask him!"_

Kaia huffs and drops Bellamy's hand, turning her head to him. "Are you going to stay in our top-secret base?"

"Shut it, Theron!"

"No,  _you, Ranger!"_ Kaia roars at the glass, then turns back to Bellamy with a strained smile.

"I don't know," he answers truthfully. "Am I going to be allowed to leave after a few hours?"

"You'll have to take an oath of secrecy," Kaia says, looking serious for the first time in a while.

"That's fine, but there's one person I'd need to tell," Bellamy says, crossing his arms.

 _"Who?"_ Kaia asks, craning her neck forward in disbelief.

"My - my partner," he says lamely.

"What sort of partner?" Kaia mutters under her breath. "As long as she's not queen's guard, she's fine."

"Have you lost your damn  _mind?"_ Ranger gasps, turning beet-red. "Ain't you got any morals about  _trust,_ Theron?"

"Well, lucky we have  _levels of clearance,_ Ranger!" Kaia spits. 

Ranger looks like he's going to implode, but he concedes. "Check Bellamy Blake other materials and then let him in," Ranger huffs.

"Whatever," Kaia growls, turning her body entirely to face Bellamy. Without warning, she sticks her hands into the pockets of his jackets, then into the front pocket of his jeans, then walks around him to stare at his back. She pulls the radio out from under the back hem of his jacket - it was clipped to the waistband of his jeans.

"An old radio?" Kaia asks, holding it up to her face. "Where the hell did you get this?"

Bellamy reaches for it, but Kaia snatches it away. "Sorry, I have to keep this," she says, and she looks genuinely apologetic. Leaning in closer so Ranger can hear, Kaia says, "Look, if you really need to talk to someone, I can give it to you for a bit. But you can't have it back until we're out of there. But for now, it'll stay with me."

Bellamy doesn't fully trust the young woman, but he feels slightly more comfortable knowing it'll be with her and not old Ranger.

"Now, can you let us through, Ranger?" Kaia snaps.

"Yeah, yeah, be patient, you deranged midget," Ranger mutters under his breath. 

"What was that, Ranger?" Kaia asks loudly, putting her ear to the glass.

"I said I'm  _doin'_ it!" Ranger says. "Gateway's open."

Bellamy looks at the empty air dividing them and the city. "There was no gateway, though," he says to Kaia.

"It was  _invisible,"_ Kaia says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Haven't you ever gone through an InvisiGate before? They're all over the airports."

Bellamy stares at her.

"I don't like flying," he says finally.

"Guess you aren't going anywhere except Eligius," Kaia says scornfully. Plane's the only way to get anywhere else on the planet. Even the cars don't go past the PTM lines."

"Planetary Territory Map," Bellamy murmurs under his breath.

"Yuh-huh," Kaia responds. "Walk  _faster."_

They walk a few blocks into the city, straight ahead, so far ahead that when Bellamy turns around, he can barely make out Ranger's station. They walk past overturned cars and melted motorbikes, under the precariously balanced pieces of skyscrapers that were torn apart long ago.

"There should've been bodies," Bellamy says, a little apprehensively. 

"My brother tells me the story of what happened," Kaia says in a small voice. "We used to live here, in Ocean Sector. He was seven when the bombing happened. He tells me, Mama and Dad were pulling him along as the bombing began, trying to get him to safety. He saw bodies up ahead - they were bombed by the block, you know - and then he went under. Then he told me, when he came back above ground the next morning, it was as if the bodies had never been there. The city was there, destroyed, but he told me the bodies were just gone, like a magic trick. He thought they threw 'em all into the ocean, but then he would've seen it."

"Go under?" Bellamy asks. "What does that mean?"

"Guess you'll find out," Kaia says. They stop at an intersection, and at the corner of the street, there's a large hatch, about ten feet across.

"One thing that was left, though," Kaia says, her voice quivering just a little bit, "was the blood."

Bellamy stops at the hatch and turns to look at her.

"My brother told me the streets turned red. The bodies disappeared, but the blood didn't."

Bellamy scans the ground, and sure enough, he sees large red stains on the ground.

He'd thought it was  _paint._

"Don't look so scared," Kaia says, clearing her throat and turning her head away. "A lot of it was washed away by the rain and whatever's left is twenty-four years old."

She bends down and puts her hand flat against the edge of the hatch, and Bellamy sees a light start to glow beneath her palm. Kaia rises and steps away from the hatch, which isn't really a hatch at all, Bellamy notes, as it slides sideways and reveals a glass tube with a ladder against it.

Kaia climbs in, hopping lightly onto the metal floor of the tube. "Get in," she demands.

Bellamy pauses, staring at the dark tunnel.

"You don't like underground places, don't you," Kaia murmurs, looking up at him. She's not entirely wrong - his skittishness with dark, underground places had been born for his fear  _for_ Octavia, but somewhere along the line, it had become one of his own fears. Or, at least, one of the things that make him uncomfortable.

"They're nothing great," he says, jumping into the glass tube.

"If it makes you feel better, where we're going isn't  _technically_ underground."

"Huh?" Bellamy asks, before the hatch closes, lights blink on at the edges of the circular floor, and the tube rockets downwards.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning against the wall. "What the hell?"

The tube starts to turn, going diagonal and even moving forward before moving down again.

"How deep are we going?" Bellamy asks weakly. It's not that this is making him sick - it's reminding him painfully of the dropship.

Kaia glances at him. "You'll know it when you'll see it."

"You are  _irritatingly_ cryptic," Bellamy mutters. 

"I feel like it's starting to grow on you," Kaia says brightly, looking unaffected by the hurtling of the elevator. "And you seem used to it, don't you?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Family."

"Who?" Kaia asks.

"Sister. Little sister," Bellamy specifies.

Kaia nods to herself.

"You're definitely more annoying," Bellamy adds.

"Watch it, old man," Kaia says warningly.

The elevator comes to a sudden stop, and Bellamy holds out one hand to steady himself. Kaia, of course, looks utterly unfazed.

He turns to one pane of glass, and it slowly sinks into the floor.

Revealing - a city.

Bellamy and Kaia slowly walk out of the elevator, and he hears it move back up towards wherever they came from.

He tilts his head up to the sky and its beautiful and blue, but a strange shade of blue, dark and clear and cloudless.

Skies aren't like that, not even the skies of this planet.

"Kaia," Bellamy says. "Are we..."

"Yeah," Kaia says, grinning at the skyscrapers and the large houses. It's a small city, more like a town, but it's _there._  "We're  _underwater."_

* * *

 "How did the queen never find out about it?" Bellamy asks, as they walk towards the main building. "It's - it's crazy."

"Ocean Sector, like I'd said, was one of the most advanced sectors. By the time the queen got wind of what was going on, the base had already been constructed. That's what I meant by my family going under before the bombing."

"This is the Resistance base," Bellamy breathes. 

"Sometimes I like to think that it used to be like this back on Earth," Kaia says wistfully.

 _"Earth?"_ he asks in surprise. "No, humans on Earth could never dream..."

"Yeah, well, it was one of my more far-fetched theories," Kaia says with a scowl. 

"Theories?" Bellamy pushes.

"I dream about Earth," Kaia says wistfully. "What it would look like, what I'd do. I'd swim in the oceans, walk through the forests, climb the mountains. I imagine that Earth would be...  _beautiful."_

"It's not that beautiful," Bellamy mutters. "Physically, I guess. The forests would be crawling with Grounders..."

Kaia starts cackling. "Grounders?"

"Yeah, the natives-" Bellamy trails off, looking at Kaia.

"Don't say it as if you've actually been there," Kaia says, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, right, of course," Bellamy says, with a nervous laugh. 

"You haven't actually been there," Kaia says, as if she's trying to convince herself. 

"No, of course, I haven't," Bellamy says.

 

"Yeah, because that would be impossible," Kaia mutters. "Alright. Here we are."

She opens one of the many doors of the largest building.

"It feels like the surface," Bellamy says, walking into the building. "How?"

"Crazy technology that I'm not smart enough to explain to you," Kaia says. "So. This is the Resistance, Bellamy Blake. This is what you wanted to be a part of."

"Yeah," he murmurs absentmindedly. "This."

"If you were to join, there's not much you would immediately know," Kaia says. "Since we're such a big movement of people, information is distributed in levels. It would be an unholy disaster if everyone knew everything. The place would be crawling with rats. Spies," she declares, striding up to the front desk.

A boy who has the same eyes and hair as Kaia is leaning against the desk, blocking the receptionist from view.

"Ranger reported you again," the boy says to Kaia, crossing his arms.

"For _what?"_ Kaia snickers. _"Insubordinance?"_

"That, and you brought a recruit without telling your unit chief," the boy says. "Kaia. Come on. That was not a good idea."

"You're one to talk," Kaia says. "It's a surprise and a great shame Mom didn't decapitate you for all your 'good ideas.'"

The man, who Bellamy concludes to be the brother Kaia mentioned, scoffs. "Whatever, Kai. He got a name?"

"Bellamy Blake," Bellamy answers. "I would've thought this Ranger guy would've told you."

"Ranger's having a perpetual crisis," Kaia says airily. Her brother scowls at her.

"Yeah, _anyways,"_ Bellamy says, glaring at her. "This is the Resistance, and-"

"You have no idea what to do," Kaia's brother says, sighing. "I understand. I mean, a lot of us were born into the Resistance, like me and my sister. But the ones who come later, it's always a tough transition for them, if they choose to make it."

"And if they do?" Bellamy asks.

"They get started on the scale of levels of clearance, and put into a unit. Having units of people in the Resistance makes it easy to mobilize the movement without fear of losing people. But before they can leave, they spend a few weeks here at the base."

Bellamy nods to himself, taking in the giant atrium of the building.

"Well, you're clearly needing some time to decide," Kaia's brother says, sounding almost annoyed. "I'll leave you to it, then. And Kai?"

"What?" Kaia asks.

"No more pissing off officials," her brother warns, before disappearing into the crowds of people.

"I need to make a call from the radio," Bellamy murmurs to her.

"Not here," Kaia snaps. "Come on."

She drags him into a hallway and then into a small conference room, taking extra care to lock the door. "Make your call, Bellamy. But be quick."

Kaia tosses the radio to him, and Bellamy holds it to his mouth. Clarke had had her radio in her backpack - he hopes she'll remember it.

"Bellamy Blake to Clarke Griffin," he says hesitantly. "Do you copy?"

There's a minute or so of silence, then the radio crackles to life. _"I copy, Bellamy. Everything okay?"_

Bellamy looks pointedly at Kaia, who glares at him and clamps her hands over her ears.

"I'm at the Resistance base," he whispers into the radio.

_"What the hell? I - what - how?"_

"Listen, I can't tell you more about it, Clarke. I wish I could."

_"Bellamy..."_

"Listen, when we get back to the hotel tonight, I'll tell you, okay? But not here."

_"Is it bad?"_

"No," he says softly. "What about you? Are you okay?"

_"I'm fine, I'm just heading back to the hotel right now. You'll be back soon, won't you?"_

"Yeah, but I think - I think I'll leave tomorrow."

_"Well, yeah, okay."_

"For a while, Clarke."

_"What do you mean?"_

"I'm going to join them, Clarke. And I'll have to spend some time at base. Okay?"

_"I'll worry about you."_

"I'll worry about you, too," he says softly. "But we're doing good here."

_"Yeah. You come home as soon as possible, yeah?"_

"I will."

_"Be safe."_

"You, too."

He clicks the radio off and puts it down on the table.

Kaia moves her hands away. "Whoever you were talking to..."

"What about her?" Bellamy says, getting defensive immediately.

"You  _like_ her," Kaia mutters, snatching the radio with a grin.

"You really  _are_ nine," Bellamy snaps.

"Small pleasures," Kaia says, unlocking the door. Bellamy sighs, looking out into the hallway. "You doing this or what?"

It's now or never.

Now

or

Never.

"Yeah," he says.

Kaia looks at him, oddly surprised.

"So," he begins. "Where do we start?"

 

 

 


	31. In the Future, Where Will I Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds himself too deep in the Resistance agenda to seek any outside help. Luckily, he may not be so alone after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh so I feel like half of you guys aren't reading this anymore rip

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kaia asks, as they walk towards the atrium. 

"Kaia-" Bellamy begins.

"Listen, if you're truly going to be a part of this, it requires a lot of commitment. Trust in our system and distrust in  _theirs._ You'll have to be willing to risk your life for us. For this."

Bellamy sighs. "I'm gonna be honest with you - I don't want to be part of any war. I don't want to fight."

He looks out the glass wall, at the ocean bearing down on the entire city. This place, the heart of what he might truly be able to believe is a good cause. "But I have to."

Kaia looks at him worriedly, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "Bellamy, you don't have to if you don't want to. "Sure, you'll have to live with this secret, the knowledge of this place, but you don't have to do anything about it."

The prospect is tantalizingly good, but he has a mission, and a purpose. Maybe his plan is a little different from that of the Resistance, but in the end, everyone wants the same thing.

"I want to," he says, not sure if it's a truth or a lie. "I do."

Kaia looks down at her watch. "Okay. It's almost six, what the hell, but there's one more debrief in an hour and a half. You can go home after that."

"So, what do we do in the ninety minutes before the debrief?" he asks.

"I get to give you a tour, of course," Kaia says brightly, before walking towards the main entrance.

Rolling his eyes, Bellamy follows. 

* * *

"The new Ocean Sector is twenty-six years old," Kaia says, striding out into the strange light. "I was born here, five years after the bombing, when my brother was twelve."

Bellamy looks up at the sky, the  _ocean,_ and sees a strange, washed out golden light. "Is that the  _sun?"_

"Sort of?" Kaia says, walking forward. "There are two suns, yeah? The light from both of them filters through the water and gives us some natural sunlight, but not enough. This entire city is encased in a dome of dedrium and titanium infused glass. The dome was built first, then the city within it. And then we built all the ways to get in here. Dome technology kind of used the real sunlight to create an artificial sun down here."

"Dedrium?" Bellamy asks, looking at the dome. "Do you guys do anything else with dedrium?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know," Kaia says mysteriously. "Even the science department is divided into levels of clearance. I know they work with it, but I'm not high enough to know what they do. It's like the Department of Mysteries." Kaia pauses. "Of, course, not like you'd know what the Department-"

"I know what the Department of Mysteries is," Bellamy says irritably. "Hasn't everyone read Harry Potter at some point?" He knows a lot of the kids on the Ark have, even the ones from the poorer stations. There about a hundred copies of each book in each library in each station.

"Not here," Kaia says with a dramatic sigh. "But anyways. Department of Mysteries."

"How do  _you_ know they're working with dedrium if you're not the right level to know about it?" Bellamy asks Kaia.

"Well, dedrium isn't necessarily easy to come by. I don't even know where they mine it from. But they  _must_ be working with a lot of it if they were able to build a dome large enough to contain a city."

"So it's just a hunch," Bellamy mutters. 

"A very well educated one!" Kaia protests, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards one of the other buildings. "The building we were just in is the Trident - head of all external communications, and the headquarters of the Alpha Council - the most important of important people here.

"And this," Kaia says, ushering him towards the other building, which is wide and not quite as tall as the Trident, "is the Academy. Surprisingly, a lot of people survived the Ocean Sector bombing, and the kids needed a school to go to, so this is it. But it's not just the kids - even new recruits train here. This is where we'll have your debrief."

The inside of the Academy is immaculate and modern, doors and hallways and stairs everywhere. Looking up, Bellamy can faintly see a hall of lockers. "How long do kids attend the Academy?" he asks.

"Even though our time isn't over for most of us after we finish our actual education in the Academy, kids usually study here until eighteen. They start when they're four or five. Of course, we still have the concept of elementary, middle, and high school, so kindergarten through fifth is in one wing, sixth through eighth is another, and ninth through twelve in another."

Bellamy nods, watching a crowd of teenagers walking by in deep blue uniforms.

"Passing period," Kaia explains, noting Bellamy's observance of all the kids walking around. "For high school, it seems."

"You're done studying here, aren't you? You're nineteen," Bellamy says.

"Yeah, I graduated last year," Kaia says, sounding both smug and wistful at the same time. Bellamy wishes Octavia could've gone to a school like this - he wishes both of them could've gone to a school like this. He lets himself imagine it for a moment, graduating three years before her and then celebrating when she would, too...

"We should get out of here," Kaia declares, pulling him towards the door. "If you don't wanna get run over by a bunch of teenagers."

"Yeah, one annoying teenager is enough," Bellamy says with a scowl towards Kaia.

"Would you believe me if I told you  _they_ were more annoying?" Kaia asks slyly, opening the door for him.

"No one can be more annoying than you," he counters immediately. "Where next?"

"That's the hospital," Kaia says, pointing at a large white building. "Birthplace of Kaia Persephone Theron."

"Your middle name's Persephone?" Bellamy asks interestedly as they pass the hospital.

"Oh, go ahead and laugh, I know you want to," Kaia mutters.

"My sister's name is Octavia," Bellamy supplies. "So you're fine."

Kaia smirks slightly.

"Anyways, how do people get around here? Do you all just walk everywhere?" Bellamy asks, looking around. He eyes the people all walking around. "And you all look weirdly healthy for people who live under an artificial sun."

"We don't live here all the time, Bellamy. This is just a hub for the Resistance - the majority of us live out there, in various parts of Aurora. New recruits spend some time here, and the scientists, and some of the Alpha Council. Think of it as - think of it as the ISS. You know what the ISS is, right?"

 _I used to live on it, Sort of._ "Yeah, the International Space Station."

"Yeah," she says absentmindedly. "That's what it is. You'll be staying in the Academy after your first debrief."

"Even tonight?" Bellamy asks, his head snapping up.

"No, if you don't want to. But starting tomorrow."

"Okay," Bellamy sighs. "Is that it?"

"There's a bunch of other unimportant places," Kaia says impatiently. "This place gets dead boring, despite how it looks. Except for the edges."

"The edges of what?" Bellamy asks.

"The dome," Kaia answers. "Come on, I'll show you." 

* * *

It's like a small park wrapping around the entire city, benches and tables facing the dome.

"How deep are we?" Bellamy asks. "Is the city on the ocean floor?"

"Not quite," Kaia says, sitting down on one of the benches. "We're about half a story above the floor. There are sub-levels, though. At least, that's what I heard. Probably in case of another disaster."

"That's unfortunate," Bellamy murmurs, walking over to the dome. As he watches, a fish with bright red fins swims by him. Suddenly, a dim blue glow, different from the shade of the ocean, surrounds him, pushing against the glass.

"The ocean glows just a bit before sunset and throughout the whole night," Kaia says, standing up and walking over to him. "Look."

He leans forward and looks down, at the drifting sand of the ocean floor. Within a few seconds, it turns violently, brightly blue, bathing their faces in a ghostly glow.

"Oh, my god," he whispers softly. 

"There's a whole other world down here," Kaia says sagely.

Bellamy nods, running his hand through his short hair. "And somehow, you guys managed to keep it hidden for twenty-six years?"

"Twenty-six years," she confirms. "And it's better if it stays that way, at least until..."

"Until the queen is off the throne."

Kaia nods, looking far into the depths of the ocean. "Until the queen is off the throne." 

* * *

"I don't think I want to go to today's debrief," Bellamy finally says. 

"Why?" Kaia responds. 

"I think I just need to talk to my-"

"Clarke," she says, scanning Bellamy's face as she says the name.

"My Clarke, yeah," Bellamy says absentmindedly, putting a finger to the glass. "I mean, she's not my-"

"I know," Kaia says, rolling her eyes at him. "If you're going to leave, you should get going now. It's rain season, and the suns are already setting."

"Back to that nightmare elevator, then?" Bellamy sighs, walking away from the glass.

"Yeah, I'll take you," Kaia says.

They walk in silence, and Bellamy grudgingly gets into the glass tube, leaning against the wall.

"Bellamy," Kaia says suddenly.

"What?"

"You can only tell Clarke about this place," she says seriously. "If anyone were to find out about this place... it would be over for all of us."

"I'll only tell her, Kaia," Bellamy says.

"You have no idea how much trouble I'll be in if they find out I'm letting you do this," Kaia says shakily. "Promise me."

"I promise."

* * *

 She hands the radio back to him when they finally go past Ranger's station and make it to the train.

"Aren't you coming?" Bellamy asks Kaia.

"No, I have stuff to do here," she says, then digs a small tablet out of her bag and hands it to him. "If you turn this on and press the button in the middle, you can let me know that you're here tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay," he says, getting on the train. "See you tomorrow."

"Maybe," Kaia says, before turning and walking away. 

* * *

Instead of getting off where he had met Kaia, Bellamy leaves the train when it arrives at the coast station, and walks down to the beach, watching one sun hanging over the horizon and the other sun above it.

"Bellamy to Clarke," he says, raising the radio to his face. "You copy?"

She responds almost immediately.  _"I copy. Where are you?"_

Bellamy smiles a little. "Get on a train and come to the coast station. I'll be waiting for you there."

_"That's it?"_

"Look, I'll tell you everything once you get here, alright?" Bellamy says. "Are you far?"

_"I was on a train when you called, and I still am. I'll be there in two minutes."_

Bellamy sighs, looking out at the ocean. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

"Hey," Clarke says, descending the steps and slowly putting one foot in the sand.

Bellamy feels like he should hug her, or something - it's the first time in a long time that they've been apart for more than an hour.

"Hi," he says breathlessly, the wind blowing his hair into a mess. 

"So," Clarke begins, looking around. "A beach. The ocean."

"The Darwinian Ocean," Bellamy says.

"This place is beautiful," Clarke declares, reaching up to pull her hair out of its ponytail, letting the golden locks tumble down her shoulders. "I never - I never thought I'd get to see an ocean."

She walks past him, towards the wetter sand, tilting her head up towards the upper sun.

"I know," he says. "That's why I asked you to come here."

She hums in thought. "So, what happened after I left?"

"I met an annoying little shit named Kaia Theron, who's part of the Resistance, and the main Resistance base in an underwater city."

Clarke chuckles softly to herself. "Slow down, Bellamy. And elaborate."

So he tells her everything, how he got there, the bombing of Ocean Sector, the debrief, the dedrium, and everything in between.

"That sounds crazy, Bellamy," Clarke says. "How did the queen never know?"

"They're beyond advanced, Clarke," Bellamy murmurs. "And I think they're getting close to overthrowing the queen."

"But they aren't officially at war with her yet," Clarke says thoughtfully. "If they're planning something big, I don't think anyone knows but them. Which is either really good, because they're good about the security of information, or bad, because they aren't doing enough to make an impact."

"Yeah," he agrees. "What about you? What did you do?"

"I ended up going to the library and doing some research on Becca Pramheda. Did you know she actually laid the groundwork for the creation of the Speculo?" Clarke asks, pulling off her shoes and socks, rolling up the hems of her pants and walking towards the water. Bellamy does the same and follows her.

"I didn't know that," he says, watching the lower sun start to disappear against the horizon.

"This fight is so much bigger than we imagined," Clarke breathes, leaning against Bellamy, and he wraps an arm around her. They stand just the way they did when they first laid eye on this planet.

"We're going to fight it," Bellamy murmurs into her hair. "For them."

"And for us," Clarke says. "For us, Bellamy. All of us."

Bellamy nods. "This Resistance thing is pretty serious," he says softly.

"And?" Clarke asks.

"And I can't do it alone."

She pulls away from him. "Does this mean you're going to let me do this with you?"

"I don't really let you do anything," Bellamy says with a small smile. "But I need - I want you to be with me."

"You need me," Clarke says with a wry smile, which quickly turns into a sad one as she turns towards the ocean.

"We can't really tell anyone about this, Clarke," Bellamy says quietly.

"I know," Clarke replies. "I didn't think we should."

Bellamy nods, trying to pat down his hair, which is untidier than usual now from the wind.

Clarke reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, making it look slightly less wild.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Bellamy," she murmurs, turning back towards the water.

"Asking you to come here," Bellamy says softly. Clarke walks even further, and Bellamy sees her shoulders rise and fall in a silent sigh as the water rushes towards her and wraps around her feet. Bellamy himself feels a rush of calm when he walks over and feels the water cover his bare feet.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he says softly, reaching out and taking her hand. 

"Me, too," Clarke says in a shaky voice, and he looks over to see that she's crying, teardrops making their way down her porcelain cheeks. Bellamy wipes them away with his free hand.

"Clarke," he murmurs. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

She lets out a watery laugh. "It's because I'm  _happy,_ Bellamy," she says, her voice slightly wondrous as if she can't believe that it's true, that she deserves it.

_You deserve it. You deserve the world._

~~_(god, I love you, Clarke Griffin)_ ~~

She leans towards him and puts her arm around his waist, her tears splashing down into the water in the next wave.

"Clarke," he says softly, wanting her to speak more.

"I'm happy," she says again, more tears spilling from her eyes, but a small smile blooming on her face as she watches the ocean turn a brilliant, shining shade of gold. "I'm crying because I'm  _happy."_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are welcome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> the second trailer for s6 is wack


	32. You Can Climb a Ladder Up To the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy start to work their way into the Resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know i've said this a lot but I really feel like this is getting boring

He kisses her softly, snaking an arm around her back leaning forward a little bit, so she leans back and holds him tighter. The ocean breeze is getting colder, but all he feels is warmth...

"Hey. Bellamy? Wake up, Bellamy, we have to go."

He opens his eyes to see Clarke sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching something in her hands.

"Hi," he says, sitting up and touching his face, a small cut on his chin he'd gotten from shaving last night.

"Oh, what happened there?" Clarke asks, reaching out and touching it.

"Razor," he says. "What do you have there?"

Clarke holds out a warm mug with steam coming off the top. "Have some coffee, Bellamy. You look dead."

"Wow, it's like you're trying to get me in bed rather than out of it," Bellamy mutters under his breath.

"Oh, sure," Clarke murmurs, and her fingers gently brush Bellamy's when he takes the mug from her. "Hurry up - we should get to the coast station before it gets busy."

He groans in protests before lifting the cup to his mouth, the coffee waking him up just as much as he needs.

"You know, just because you're doing this it doesn't mean I'm entirely comfortable with it," Bellamy mutters, walking towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, whatever," Clarke says unconcernedly. "I told you I'll be fine."

"Sure."

"Are you underestimating me, Bellamy?" Clarke asks shortly. 

"I would never," Bellamy replies earnestly. "But come on. Haven't you been through enough?"

"I'll have you," she says simply, and it makes Bellamy's heart flip. "After we pack our things we should check out of the hotel, seeing as we'll be spending some time at Ocean Sector, okay?"

"Yeah," Bellamy murmurs. "Some time." 

* * *

"So," Clarke says softly, looking reverently at the ocean. "Where next?"

"One second," Bellamy murmurs, reaching in his backpack and digging out the tablet Kaia had given him. It comes to life as soon as he angles it towards him a bit, a blue, hollow circle displayed on the now bright white screen.

He puts his finger in the middle of the circle, and the circle shifts, pulsing outward like ripples in water. The tablet goes dark for a minute before words appear on the screen.

> _You know how you came here on a silver train? There's a black train in the station—get on that one. Go to Ranger's station, tell him your names (don't worry, he won't make too big of a deal over your 'partner'), then go three blocks straight—you'll see the hatch. Put your hand on the tablet after you read this message, and then your hand will be able to unlock the hatch. Don't worry, just lay your palm flat over the metal until the scan. I'll meet you by the elevator, okay?_

Bellamy sighs and puts his hand against the screen, and he sees a green light glow underneath his palm. Tucking the tablet back into his pack, he turns to Clarke, who's gazing at the horizon. _  
_

"How big do you think the ocean is?" she asks, turning away from it and walking towards Bellamy.

"I dunno," he says softly. "Why?"

"It's strange," Clarke replies. "How much we don't know."

"Doesn't it scare you?" Bellamy asks her.

"Not anymore," she says quietly. "Now, where are we going?"

"There's a black train in the station," Bellamy states, heading towards the station in question. "That'll take us to what used to be Ocean Sector, and the rest—well, you'll see, I guess."

* * *

 "Their train system is so efficient," Clarke murmurs later, holding onto one of the poles in the train. "We could go anywhere we wanted to, couldn't we?"

"Trains and cars don't cross PTM lines except for Aurora and Eligius," Bellamy says. "Kaia said a plane was the only place to get anywhere."

"I am absolutely not getting used to this anytime soon," says Clarke sullenly. The train starts to rise from the underground, and Clarke turns her head to the window, the suns reflected in her eyes.

"But you like this place, don't you?" Bellamy asks, leaning forward.

"I'll like it better after we've vanquished our latest villain," Clarke smirks, letting go of the pole and walking towards the open doors. The train is completely empty except for them, so it speeds away seconds after they get off.

"Got all your stuff?" Bellamy asks her as they arrive at Ranger's station.

"Yeah," she murmurs, looking warily at Ranger.

"Hey, Ranger!" Bellamy calls. "Remember me?"

"I ain't got time for you, kid!" Ranger yowls—he must be tired. "Just go."

"Is the gate open?" Bellamy asks impatiently.

_"Yes, the gate's open."_

Bellamy rolls his eyes and Clarke smiles softly to himself. "Thank you, Ranger," he says in a sing-song voice, before tugging Clarke through the invisible gate.

"He's not very nice, is he?" Clarke murmurs, smiling up at him as they go deep into the city.

"What can you do?" Bellamy asks, smiling back at her. He notices her take in the city—and stop as she looks at the road beneath them.

"Bellamy," she whispers, crouching. "Is that—"

"Blood," he says simply, gently pulling her up. "Clarke, come on—"

She gets to her feet, looking around with her eyebrows drawn together. 

"What is it?" Bellamy asks. "Are you okay?"

"It's just—" Clarke begins, then swallows. "It's like deja vu, but not."

"What do you mean?"

"I know this place," she says, almost urgently, turning to face him and putting her hands on his shoulders. "I remember it. A street with blood..."

"From the Speculo?" Bellamy whispers.

She pulls away from him, blinking. "I don't know. Forget it, okay?"

"Forget what?" Bellamy says with a small smile, but he knows neither of them will forget.

They approach the metal hatch within a few minutes, and Bellamy bends down to put his hand against it. A green bar of light slides down the are of the metal underneath his palm, and the hatch slides open when he steps back. 

"It's underground?" Clarke asks, climbing the ladder down into the elevator.

"Underwater," Bellamy replies, and he sees Clarke tense for half a second, so quickly that even she hadn't noticed it, probably.

"Underwater," she repeats, as Bellamy climbs into the elevator. He sees a curved seat against the wall, with a seatbelt on it. And on the seat, a note.

_**for the old man!!!!!** _

_**don't throw up in the elevator.** _

"What's that?" Clarke asks, as the hatch closes over their heads.

"Kaia's idea of a joke," Bellamy grumbles.

Clarke laughs, and the elevator shoots downwards, causing Bellamy to reach out and grab Clarke's waist.

"Maybe the seatbelt wasn't that much of a joke," Clarke says with a smile that turns into a laugh as Bellamy gasps and puts his forehead on her shoulder when the elevator goes diagonally.

"Stop laughing," he snaps. "Is this  _not_ bothering you?"

"I think it's fun," she says with a smile. 

Bellamy sighs and holds her tighter, closing his eyes. When the elevator finally comes to a stop, he looks up into Clarke's eyes. Apparently noticing the lack of space between their faces, Clarke steps back. The doors slide open, and Bellamy turns his head to see Kaia standing there with her hip jutted out and her arms crossed.

"You're late," she calls.

"You didn't even give me a time to come," Bellamy snarls, walking out of the elevator.

"Is that Clarke?" Kaia asks, looking at the woman in question.

"That is Clarke," Clarke replies, looking like she's trying not to laugh. "It's nice to meet you, Kaia."

"I would certainly hope to say the same, after meeting Bellamy," Kaia responds immediately, and Bellamy scowls at her.

"Real piece of work, isn't he?" Clarke says softly, looking up at him with a teasing smile.

"You're worse," he responds, then adds quietly,  _"traitor."_

_( ~~a traitor who you love)~~_

~~~~Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Bellamy swallows.

"So—" Clarke begins, looking up. "This is your base."

"It's underwater," Kaia adds unnecessarily.

"I noticed," Clarke replies softly, walking forward. "This place—this place is beautiful."

"I suppose it is," Kaia adds quietly, looking out towards the edge of the dome. "Um, you guys have a debrief in like, two minutes."

"Debrief?" Clarke asks suddenly. "I thought it would be more of a briefing."

"Well, they have to ask you some questions before you join," Kaia says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "This isn't just some anti-queen support group."

Bellamy snickers, whereas Clarke looks slightly concerned.

"Alright," she concedes, looking at Kaia, and then Bellamy. "Lead the way."

* * *

"Welcome to the Academy," Kaia says, and though Bellamy's seen the inside before, the place still takes his breath away.

"A school," Clarke says softly. "People live here?"

"Not necessarily," Kaia says. "The majority of the families live in different parts of Aurora. This place is really just a boarding school and a training center for new recruits."

Kaia leads them up a set of gleaming white stairs, and down a hall lined with different colored doors. "Come on," Kaia says impatiently.

"I like her," Clarke mutters. 

"I don't," Bellamy replies shortly.

"Yeah, you do," Clarke says with a hint of a smile. "She reminds you of Octavia. I can tell."

Bellamy looks at her with a weak smile. "If you tell her, I might have to kill you."

"You can most certainly try," Clarke says, grinning back at him.

Kaia leads them into a conference room, where a familiar person stands by the window, smiling at them.

"I didn't think you guys would be here," Camille Creed says, crossing her arms. "But there's a first time for everything, I guess."

* * *

"My brain hurts," Clarke groans, glaring at the table in front of her. "It's like she's a double-crosser, but  _not."_

"A triple-crosser," Bellamy mutters, staring at the door Camille just walked out of. After asking them a few irrelevant questions about their loyalties to Russell and their experience with the queen—though she already knew from when they told her at the party where they met her—Camille explained how she'd been a member of the Resistance for almost five years, though she used to work in the queen's science division before she was chosen by Russell as the Director of the Internal Operation Task Force.

"You guys are weird," Kaia says unconcernedly. "I'm surprised your debrief wasn't more intense."

"She kind of already interrogated us about stuff before," Bellamy says. 

Kaia shrugs and leans back in her chair, propping her feet up onto the table.

"So, what now?" Clarke asks, straightening up.

"Training, and then they'll put you in some unit in the continent to carry out our crazy agenda," Kaia says, as if she's talking about the weather.

On the other hand, Bellamy looks at Clarke, and he knows they're in too deep now.

* * *

"First, we should see where you are physically," Kaia says, leading them to a large, cavernous room, with most of the floor covered in mats.

"Like... a fitness test?" Bellamy asks weakly.

"What? No," Kaia says. "That's just unnecessary. The test of your fitness will be taken through an assessment of your combat skills. You guys good with weapons?"

"Guns for both of us," Bellamy says, looking at Clarke, "and knives for her."

"Knives?" Kaia asks with interest. "Me, too. You are alright with starting now, aren't you?"

Clarke tosses her backpack to the side and shrugs off her jacket. "Sure."

"Cool," Kaia says, going over to a dashboard in one of the areas not covered with mats. "Seeing as knife skills are easier to test, are you okay with just sitting this one out, Bellamy?"

"Sure," he says. "I haven't really seen her do much with a knife, but I know she's good at it."

Kaia gives him a knowing smirk, and Bellamy just glares.

"Now, Clarke," she says, turning to Clarke and motioning for her to stand in some circle painted on the floor. "You're going to get a couple of knives, and this small arena is going to create holographic figures advancing towards you. They're your opponents, and all you have to do is take them out. Remember, hand to hand combat isn't gonna work, because these things—well, they're not real. Do you prefer anything specific?" Kaia asks, holding out a box.

"Two butterfly knives and have the rest be regular ones," Clarke murmurs, and Kaia sets them down on the podium next to where Clarke stands.

"We didn't have butterfly knives on the—um, on the ground," Bellamy says, eyeing Kaia.

"Yeah, we did," Clarke says. "That's how I learned."

"You're a surgeon," he says with a nervous laugh.

"I didn't come out of the womb with a scalpel in my hand, Bellamy," Clarke says impatiently. 

"You weren't born with a balisong in your hand either," Bellamy mutters.

"Surprised you know that a butterfly knife is called a balisong, Bellamy," Clarke says with a slight smile.

Suddenly, figures, made completely of millions of golden cubes woven together materialize out of nowhere, and Clarke picks up a regular knife and throws it, the blade striking squarely in the middle of one of the figure's foreheads. The silhouette disintegrates, and the knife clatters to the floor.

More figures arise and they charge towards Clarke, who evolves into a flurry of limbs and movement, until the silver of the flying blades become nothing more than shining blurs. Again and again, the golden figures dissolve and more follow in their wake, making it closer and closer to Clarke than the last round. Kaia watches with her mouth slightly open. 

Now, Clarke only has the two balisongs left, and she picks one up.

The knives twist around her fingers, reminding Bellamy forcefully of that strange dream of Clarke with the tendrils of light snaking around her hands. The pixellated people advance, and she slashes and stabs, until the floor is littered with slowly fading golden cubes. There is only one person left, with no more figures being generated, and it does not immediately disintegrate when Clarke slashes its gut. Looking slightly surprised, she reaches for the other balisong, and from there, she makes quick work of the last opponent.

Clarke steps back and wipes a drop of sweat away from her forehead.

"When did you learn to do that?" Bellamy asks indignantly. 

"After Mount Weather," Clarke says quietly and tersely, and immediately changes her expression after Kaia walks over to her.

"I think it's safe to say you're pretty good at that," Kaia says. "You took the least amount of time out of all of our initiates to finish them all off."

Bellamy grins to himself. "That's not too much of a surprise," he says softly, causing Clarke to smile shyly at him.

"Now, shooting," Kaia says briskly. "That assessment takes a lot more time, but it's a lot more fun. On the mats, please, both of you."

Bellamy and Clarke make their way to the mats, and Bellamy pulls his own jacket off, too.

"They're years ahead of us," Clarke says softly as Kaia pulls a box from the shelves lining one side of the room. She walks over to them and sets the box down in front of them. "You'll have to change into the clothes that are in here. They're new, and they're now yours, to be used in all forms of virtual training."

"Virtual training?" Bellamy repeats.

"Oh, yeah," Kaia says with a grin. "Locker room's over there," she says, pointing to a door on the other side of the room. Clarke picks up the box and walks towards the door, and Bellamy follows.

"Locker room, singular," Clarke grumbles when they open the door. She sets the box down on the bench in the middle of the room and opens it. Clarke pulls out a thick black jacket, and tosses it towards him. "Lucky, you don't have to change everything. Put the jacket on, and then turn around."

"Fine," he mutters, pulling the jacket on. He sees Clarke withdraw more armor-like clothing, and with a terrible jolt in his stomach, he realizes that it's the same clothing she was wearing in  _the dream._

_(the gold do you remember the gold?)_

_(do you remember how powerful she was?)_

He turns away, trying to calm his breathing. It has to mean something. Everything must mean something.

* * *

When they arrive, Kaia holds out a pair of goggle-like glasses to both of them. "When you put these on, they'll simulate an environment different from this one. Stand here, and here," Kaia says, handing them the glasses and pointing to different areas of the floor. She pulls out a small screen and presses a button, and glass walls rise from the strangely located gaps in the mats. "This is to ensure you guys don't run into each other. Your targets are each other—whoever gets shot first loses."

"So it's basically a game," Bellamy mutters. "And we're not actually getting shot, are we?"

"An assessment disguised as a game, but it's still fun, Kaia says, stepping off the mats. "And you're not getting shot. Remember, no hand to hand. Got it?"

"Yep," Clarke calls, then puts on the glasses. The walls go from clear, to translucent, to opaque, and Bellamy puts the glasses on as well.

* * *

First, he sees white.

Bellamy's eyes slowly adjust to the area in front of him, and he sees bright white walls in every direction. Corridors and hallways.

He's looking for Clarke.

He notes the sudden presence of a gun in his hands, like the guns he'd found in the supply depot with Clarke back when they first landed. 

There are words in the corner of vision, like the words that were there when he put on the glasses Shaw had made for him.

> **Bellamy Blake**
> 
> **_Enable tracking system_  
>  **
> 
> **_Alert for Exit_ **

He assumes that the tracking system is for finding Clarke, but he knows it can't be that easy. Still, he murmurs "enable tracking system" under his breath.

_**No person found in close proximity** _

"Fine, then," he mutters. "I'll find her myself."

It feels strange, looking for Clarke with a gun—it's strange, not being on her side.

"Okay, Clarke," he murmurs to himself. "Where are you?"

All of a sudden, when he turns a corner, he sees something familiar, something that strikes a chord of fear.

_Reapers._

Everywhere, coming in from every direction. Bellamy shoots at them, and they fall, but more appear. He turns and dodges, and finally, he shoots the last Reaper in the head.

_How could they know?_

Swallowing and taking deep breaths, Bellamy tries enabling the tracking system again. Nothing happens, but in the distance, he hears a scream.

A scream that sounds like Clarke's.

Bellamy runs towards it, trying to enable his system every few seconds. She's still too far away.

The sound of soft, scornful laughter reaches his ears and he whirls around, gun pointed at—

Cage Wallace, Emerson, and Lovejoy.

_Oh, come on._

All three of them raise their guns at him, but Bellamy is too quick for any of them, and he dodges all of their bullets, putting a few in Lovejoy's leg, one in Emerson's gut, and one in Cage's head. Lovejoy gets up on shaky legs and charges towards Bellamy, knocking both their guns away in the process. His hands close around Bellamy's throat and Bellamy turns his head to the side a bit, staring at the gun lying just a foot away.

Lovejoy notices, and reaches for it, but Bellamy shoves him away and grabs the gun, shooting Lovejoy in the heart.

_(again again again killing again and again)_

_It's just target practice._

He enables the tracker and this time something  _does_ happen—glowing blue orbs seem to emerge out of nowhere and hover before Bellamy's eyes for a moment, before moving down the hall. He follows them, and turns into a corridor with small pillars everywhere. The orbs disappear, and Bellamy can only understand that to mean that Clarke's here.

"Is that you, Bellamy?" Clarke's voice rings out in the hallway. She sounds tired, but alert.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Good, because I just had to shoot McCreary and I was worried you were another illusion."

"How do they know these things about us?" Bellamy asks. 

"They don't," Clarke murmurs. "This simulation seems to be drawing from our own thoughts and memories. Like—"

"Like the Speculo," Bellamy interrupts. "You gonna come out or are we going to play hide and seek?"

A figure rises from behind one of the pillars—Clarke, with a small gun aimed at his gut.

"This is weird," she says, and pulls the trigger. Bellamy drops to the ground just in time. 

"At least it won't hurt me," he says.

"Who's playing hide and seek now?" he hears her murmur, and they both surge up at the same time, Bellamy firing. Clarke ducks and rolls and sends a few bullets in rapid succession towards him, all of which Bellamy narrowly avoids.

"You know I taught you, right?" he says, shooting at her shoulder. She drops and crouches behind a pillar.

"Doesn't mean I can't be better than you," she says, as she gets up and shoots towards his leg. Bellamy walks closer to her, trying to get better aim around all these pillars.

Clarke turns and raises her gun, and they pull their triggers at the same time. Bellamy feels a jolt in his gut, and he sees Clarke clutching her stomach.

"Draw?" Bellamy asks, grinning.

"Sure," Clarke says, and the hallway fades from view, and they find themselves back on the mats, the walls becoming transparent around them.

"You guys okay?" Kaia asks as the walls sink back into the floor.

"Little bruised but alive," Bellamy says. "That's virtual reality?"

"Borrowing from your own consciousness to make the experience as real as possible. That's why you might've faced opponents you've seen before," Kaia explains. "Both of you are super advanced—were you guys soldiers or something?"

"Something like that," Clarke says.

"That was a tie, wasn't it?" Bellamy asks.

"Bellamy shot a tenth of a second faster," Kaia says. "And that's not what we were really looking at but sure, call that a tie."

"What comes now?" Clarke asks.

"We're going to be testing your skills in various areas to see which branch of the Academy you'll study in. So, unless you two happen to be scientific geniuses, too, I'm pretty sure you guys are going to the Operations division," Kaia says. "That's where I went."

"And when do we get to go on actual missions?" Bellamy asks her.

Kaia opens her mouth to answer, but another voice interrupts her.

"One week," Austin Creed says, walking further into the room.

"Sir, one week of training and evaluation before you send them on a mission?" Kaia gasps, sounding scandalized.

"Yeah, Theron," Austin says testily, and looks at Clarke and Bellamy. "As it turns out, I have the perfect mission for them."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha look at me borrowing Agents of SHIELD terms  
> comment and kudos because I'm insecure


	33. Or Write a Song Nobody Has Sung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy learn about their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are some mentions of earlier seasons here and i havent watched those in a while so forgive me if i get a few minor details wrong

"Stupid. Idiotic. What were we thinking? What was I thinking?" Kaia asks, scuffing her toe against the floor. "One week.  _One week!_ You guys are gonna die!"

"Thank you for that assessment," Bellamy grumbles.

"Does he know you?" Kaia asks, her voice approaching hysteria. They're in one of the dormitory wings of the Academy, and one of the students walking by them gives Kaia a strange look.

"We've met," Clarke says evasively before Bellamy can speak up.

"Must've thought you guys were something," Kaia says softly. "A mission, too! You would've just gotten assigned to a unit, but  _no,_ they have to give you a mission!" Kaia says, leading them to one of the rooms. "Okay, listen. This is your room. Co-ed wing. Welcome to the Academy." Her finishing sentence is rushed.

"Thanks, Kaia," Clarke says softly, taking the key card from Kaia's hands and using it to unlock the room. "Woah."

"Yeah, huge dorm," Kaia says dismissively, shoving two thin and small tablets at them, and then two watches. "Watches and phones are for keeping in contact with us. You can get notifications on your watch, and I have both your tablets set up with all the contacts and everything. Will you know how to use them?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bellamy mutters, putting his watch on. "Thanks," he adds gruffly. 

Kaia looks between him and Clarke, who is glaring at her watch, and waggles her eyebrows before walking away, her long blonde braid swinging.

They step into their room and Bellamy closes the door behind him, tucking the phone into his back pocket. "What's up, Clarke?"

"One second," Clarke murmurs, turning the watch over and prying open a back panel. She examines it for a good minute, before popping the panel back in place.

"Find anything incriminating?" Bellamy asks, only half-joking.

"Not yet," Clarke murmurs, touching the face of the watch. There's a small beep, and then the screen projects words up into the air in front of her face. 

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 7 days_

"They'll be testing us to see if we're ready, I'm guessing," Clarke says, giving her watch a slight shake, causing the words to disappear. 

"Then we should be ready, I suppose. We want to go high, don't we?" Bellamy asks, shrugging off his backpack and walking over to one of the bedroom doors.

"We do," Clarke says quietly.

"How are you at fighting without weapons?" he asks suddenly.

"I'm... I'm okay," Clarke murmurs quietly. "I haven't really gotten much practice at it, though."

"Well, the day's not over yet," Bellamy declares, looking down at his watch. "Let's see how you are."

It takes Clarke a moment to catch on. "What, against  _you?"_ she asks in dismay.

"Am I not a worthy opponent?" Bellamy asks in mock hurt, putting his hand on his chest. 

"I—no," Clarke mutters, her throat bobbing as she swallows. "Let's go."

* * *

Bellamy closes the door of the training room and tugs on the hem of his threadbare shirt before looking at Clarke, who's leaning against one of the punching bags.

"Okay," he says. "We're not going to fight each other right away, Clarke. I just want to start by seeing your technique."

She pushes off the back and faces it, spreading her legs a bit and adjusting into a good stance. "Technique," she murmurs softly, clenching her fists.

"Lincoln—"

He chokes on the name, clears his throat, and starts again.

"Lincoln taught me a type of fighting. Called it Taekwondo. All the clans had some variation of a martial art, and Trikru chose Taekwondo," Bellamy says, stepping around Clarke and putting one hand on the bag.

"I know it."

"What?" Bellamy asks, alarmed by Clarke's suddenly hard voice.

"I said, I know it," she repeats. "Using a balisong isn't all I learned when I was alone."

Bellamy gathers that Clarke doesn't particularly ever want to talk about what happened after the Mountain fell, so he nods to himself. "Who taught you?"

She scoffs. "Whoever didn't want to put a knife to my throat and 'steal my power' or whatever," she says. "Can we start?"

Bellamy straightens up. "Jab, cross."

She demonstrates the move with perfection, satisfying thuds as her knuckles hit the bag. He makes her repeat the move a few times, and sometimes she accidentally hits with the wrong parts of her knuckles, skinning her fingers. But Clarke doesn't seem to notice, and she goes on.

It becomes a grim parody of a beat.

"Front kick with the back leg."

_1_

_2_

_3_

_4_

_5_

_6_

_7_

_8_

_9_

_10._

"Front leg."

_One_

_and two_

_and three_

_and four_

_and five_

_and six_

_and seven_

_and eight_

_and nine_

_and ten._

"Round kick."

_nine left_

_eight left_

_seven more_

_six more_

_five left_

_four_

_three_

_two_

_one_

_zero._

"Side kick."

_one station_

_two leaders_

_three apocalypses_

_four stations crashed_

_safe after five years_

_gone for six years_

_known earth for seven_

_wish it could have been eight_

_maybe nine_

_the earth was supposed to come back after ten._

"Knife-hand strike."

_one_

_and then two_

_and then three_

_and it became four_

_and five_

_and six_

_and seven_

_went to eight_

_and then nine_

_and I lost count after ten how could I lose count of those bodies after ten?_

Bellamy shakes his head a little. The counting is getting to his head.

"Um, back fist."

Clarke angles her body to the side and does it.

_one day_

_two days_

_three days_

_four days_

_five days_

_six days_

_seven days_

_eight days_

_nine days_

_(2,199 days)_

_ten._

"Are you okay?" Clarke asks.

Bellamy hesitates for a moment before asking—"Do you ever just obsessively count things?"

Clarke sighs. "Yeah, Bellamy. Days. People. Bodies."

She says the last word while uncomfortable fidgeting in her stance.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I've just been counting and it's been fucking with my head."

Clarke punches him hard in the gut.

"Cheer up," she says, looking unconcerned, but her eyes tell a different story. "Come on, Bell. Don't think about it."

She's right—he's just in a weird mood.

"Jump front kick."

"Reverse hook kick."

Clarke wobbles a little bit on this one, and Bellamy grabs a shoulder and a hip to keep her from falling.

"You good?" he asks.

"Good," she replies.

They cycle through more kicks and hand motions, and then they step away from the bags.

"How are you on defending yourself?" he asks.

"Better than you would assume," Clarke smirks.

"You better be," he mutters before aiming a punch at her. She blocks it at the last second, looking slightly surprised. He gets her a few times, but he's not trying to put any force into his movements yet, and as Clarke claimed, she is good at defending herself.

"Okay," Bellamy murmurs. "This is where the fun begins, yeah?"

He tugs his shirt off in one swift gesture and drops it at the edge of the floor. 

"Distraction technique?" Clarke asks.

"No," he says simply. "I'm hot."

She snickers, and then she kicks him.

Bellamy is undeterred, however—he responds to her moves with equal force. He realizes that Clarke tends to attack more, something she shares with him and something that has them gasping for breath. Bellamy hadn't necessarily presented any rules when it came to sparring, and Clarke fights as such.

It's a jarring difference to her personality—careful, controlled, and righteous. But here, she fights for her life. She jumps and brings her legs up in an arcing kick that Bellamy barely avoids—her foot grazes the top of his hair. They deal blow after blow and he's sure both he and Clarke will be covered in bruises after this—he can already see a few blooming on her arm.

Another thing, he realizes, is that Clarke fights with rage.

She's an entirely different person in the fight, and that terrifies him just a little.

She brings her leg up in an arcing kick that he dodges and the kick sends her spinning into a combination of moves but he grabs her from behind and pulls her close. She tries to elbow him in the stomach, but he grabs that arm and holds it up, wrapping the other arm around her neck.

Clarke starts walking backward, backing Bellamy into a wall as she tries to throw his arm off.

For a terrible moment, she freezes, her hands tightening on his arm, her fingers trembling.

And then it passes, and Clarke digs her fingers into his radial nerve, sending sparks of pain along his arm and gaining enough leverage to throw him off. Bellamy recovers quickly and advances on her.

"You're a good fighter," he pants, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. "Why doesn't anyone know?"

Clarke smiles grimly, and then gives him a brilliant black eye.

Bellamy lunges and yanks on her arm, flipping her over his shoulder. Clarke lands on her feet though, and punches him in the jaw.

"I think you might need therapy," he murmurs, kicking her in the chest. Clarke steps back, rubbing her sternum reproachfully.

"I thought you would assume from this that this is kind of turning out to be my therapy," she mutters, trying to kick him, but missing as he moves.

"What, punching me?" he asks with a breathless laugh.

"I hope you don't think I actually want to hurt you, I'm just having fun," she clarifies, and lets out a yelp of pain as he punches her in the jaw.

"Same here," he says. 

"Glad we understand each other," Clarke says softly, and tackles him. Bellamy lies on the ground with Clarke standing next to him, and he's just too tired to get up.

So he kicks her in the ankle and she falls too, her head landing on his stomach.

"Think we're good on hand to hand combat?" she asks.

It takes Bellamy a moment to answer, because the feel of her hair splayed on his stomach, the feel of her near him, is kind of rendering him incapable of speech.

"Yeah," he murmurs, feeling strangely warm and flustered. "I think so."

* * *

"Holy  _shit,_ what happened to you?" Kaia asks, quite literally bumping into him as they exit the training room.

"Him," Clarke says at the same time Bellamy says "Her."

Kaia raises an eyebrow at Bellamy.

"God, Kaia, we were just  _sparring,"_ he says through gritted teeth, trying very hard not to look at Clarke.

"You and your euphemisms," Kaia mutters. "Clean yourselves up, you guys. Austin wants to see you."

"Why the weird emphasis on  _sparring?"_ Clarke asks once they've reached their dorm.

"Shut up," Bellamy replies.

* * *

"Not already getting into fights, are you guys?" Austin asks in disbelief.

"We were sparring," Bellamy mutters.

"Yeah, sparring's the top excuse," Camille says from her perch on the arm of the chair Austin sits in inside the conference room. "Shoulda heard what excuse  _Kaia_ gave after she—"

"Austin, let's tell them about the mission!" Kaia says loudly from her chair in the room. "The mission you're giving them after one week of training at the Academy!"

"You can stop yelling, Kaia," Clarke says.

 _"Can_ _I?"_ Kaia shoots back dryly. 

"Guys, please," Camille says impatiently. "Kaia, I know you're not happy about it, but I think they can handle themselves. And Russell trusts them."

Kaia's eyes damn near pop out of her head. "Russell Hall? The Russell Hall?"

"Apparently," Austin says. 

"What's the mission?" Clarke asks, and Bellamy can tell she's eager, maybe too eager, to get started.

Camille clears her throat and says, "It's directly related to the queen. Clarke, I need you to—I need you to recruit the queen's sister into the Resistance. And Bellamy, I just need you to retrieve all her experiment files. This is going to be pretty long-term, especially in Clarke's case."

"I think I'll be better at recruiting her sister," Bellamy blurts, then immediately regrets it. He's not sure whether he said that because he wants nothing to do with the queen, or because he seriously thinks he's the one more cut out for that job. Either way, he feels like an idiot, because he knows he should've discussed this with Clarke.

To his immense surprise, she says, "I agree. I should be the one to get the experiment files." She glances at Bellamy and nods as if assuring him that he's right, but the look in her eyes seems to contradict him. But he can't entirely understand what that look means.

Camille pauses and looks at Austin, who sighs. "If you guys really think that'll work better, then yeah. Do that."

"Anything else?" Bellamy says, reaching under the table and taking Clarke's hand. She doesn't move away, but she only links one finger with his. 

"You'll be taken to her castle in one week, equipped with ways to communicate with us if anything goes sideways. Which I really hope it doesn't," Camille says softly. "This isn't just what Russell wants—it's what our world needs."

"Say things  _do_ go sideways," Clarke says softly. "What then?"

Austin looks slightly uncomfortable. "We will, to the best of our ability, try to have you out of there."

"But the priority is the idea of the revolution," Kaia says. "Not the lives of the people who carry it out."

On that bitter note, their meeting ends.

* * *

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 6 days_

"Damn it, Bellamy, don't  _hold_ it like that!" Clarke screeches. 

"It's just a knife!" Bellamy says indignantly. "Also, I wasn't born with a balisong in my hand!"

"As we've already concluded," Clarke grumbles, "neither was I."

* * *

"Hey, hey. Stop looking at me," Bellamy chides her. "Look at the target."

"Get your big head out of my way, then," Clarke says, putting a finger on the trigger.

"You are a pain in my ass, you know that?" Bellamy mutters, touching her shoulder the same he touched it all those years ago when he was first teaching her to shoot. Feeling flustered,  _just_ like that time, he steps away. "I think you've got it."

"I know damn well that I've got it!" Clarke complains. Her bullet hits the diagram of the person square in the head.

* * *

"Fuck," she groans, looking up at Bellamy, who's got her pinned between his body and the floor. "Get off me."

"I win," he declares unnecessarily.

"Only because I'm tired of having to teach you how to use a butterfly knife," Clarke snarls, and Bellamy can feel her breath on his lips. Once again feeling stupidly warm, he stands up and extends a hand. Clarke takes it and kicks him halfheartedly in the shin. "You know, we're gonna ace that pre-mission assessment."

"You are," Bellamy says.

"So are you," Clarke replies fervently, and Bellamy sees something like  _pride_ in her eyes. It warms him up from head to toe, and gives him the courage to ask the burning question.

"Are you mad that I switched our individual missions?" he asks softly.

"No," she says simply, and that's that.

* * *

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 5 days_

"How fast are you?" Bellamy asks Clarke.

"Fast enough," Clarke heaves, shredding holographic figures with regular knives this time. "Why?"

"I don't know," Bellamy admits. "I just feel like we'll have some running to do in the future."

"You are the most paranoid person I have ever met," Clarke states, turning her whole body to face him, and Bellamy just watches the golden people advancing towards her.

"Clarke, watch out—" he chokes out, but Clarke's disintegrated them all before he's even finished saying her name, and all while looking at him.

"See? Paranoid," she mutters, killing the last opponent, then sighing as the machine shuts down.

"Can you believe our roles used to be reversed?" Bellamy asks, tossing her a water bottle. 

"Reckless Rebel King Bellamy," Clarke says with a derisive snort. "I think you might still be more reckless than me at heart."

"You think or you hope?" Bellamy asks, only half-joking.

"I hope," Clarke replies softly. "I hope that part of you isn't gone."

* * *

"That's not fair," Bellamy says, leaning back so his head touches the ground. "There should be a rule against judo-flipping."

"Against what?" Clarke laughs. "That sounds like a disease."

"You sound like a disease," he intelligently counters.

Clarke bends down and kisses him on the forehead, still laughing. Bellamy does not move for a long time, but his grin almost cracks his face apart.

* * *

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 4 days_

"What did you see?" Bellamy asks quietly, taking off his glasses and looking at Clarke's stricken faces. They had been in an immaculate city, fighting nameless people.

"You saw it, too," she whispers.

"What?" he asks.

"The City of Light."

Later, Clarke wakes in the dead of the night and gets into bed next to Bellamy, lacing her fingers with his like he is the tether that holds her to the planet. She probably thinks he's not awake, but he is.

* * *

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 3 days_

"The queen's got a thing for you, I think," Clarke says, kicking Bellamy in the chest.

"Yeah, well, I've got a thing for someone else," he mutters under his breath, not even thinking about the words.

"What's that?" Clarke asks, ducking under his punch.

"Nothing," he says.

* * *

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 2 days_

"Do you think we can do this?" Clarke asks him, handing him a balisong.

"I hope we can," he answers.

* * *

_Pre-Mission Assessment in 1 day_

"We're doing this for the right reason, right?" Bellamy asks Clarke, then taking a long sip of water.

"I think I am," Clarke says, looking infinitely sad in that moment. "I don't know how you feel, though."

"I just want a break," Bellamy admits.

"If this goes right," Clarke murmurs, "then we'll get a break we deserve."

* * *

That night, he dreams of Clarke again, her eyes the brightest shade of gold.

_If this goes right._

* * *

 

> **nighthawk**
> 
> **_n_. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god i feel like this chapter is gonna flop  
> kudos and comments are absolutely welcome!!!!!!!


	34. Or Do Something That's Never Been Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke test their endurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BORING STORY EEE

He realizes that he shouldn’t necessarily be afraid of what’s about to happen, but as soon as Kaia leads him into one room and he notices that Clarke isn’t supposed to follow, the seed of apprehension takes over quickly enough.

 _You'll be okay,_  she mouths at him before he walks through the door and into a blank room.

Kaia hands him a gun and the VR glasses. "Shoot everything that moves," she says, and Bellamy puts the glasses on.

* * *

The floor of the dropship is hard and inflexible beneath his feet, and he can hear the delinquents working outside. He steps out and he catches a flash of long blonde hair shining in the sunlight, goggles reflecting the sunlight, a long brown ponytail swinging as the owner walks.

He blinks, and it disappears.

 _"Grounders, Bellamy,"_ Clarke's voice murmurs near him, and Bellamy turns his head so fast he cricks his neck, but Clarke is not there.

Grounders. 

Grounders.

He raises his gun, eyes searching through the trees. It is simple—too simple.

Bellamy ventures past the walls the hundred had so meticulously built, eyes darting through the foliage.

 _"Bellamy!"_ he hears Clarke snap, and he whirls around, just in time to shoot a Grounder in the head before he put an arrow in Bellamy. As soon as Bellamy takes the shot, the forest spins, and he falls towards the ground, watching the green fade into white.

Mount Weather.

It's easy.

When he hears Cage Wallace's voice, Bellamy puts a bullet in his gut, and one in his brain for good measure. But it's not over at that moment—his feet carry him to a control room, and he finds himself face to face with a familiar lever.

Bellamy walks over to it then looks at the screen, his heart plummeting when he sees Clarke's pale, bloodied, and bruised face staring up at the camera, blood dripping from her stomach and onto the floor next to the table she lies on. She has an accusatory expression, almost, like she knows Bellamy's watching, like he's the reason she's there. 

As if on impulse, Bellamy reaches for the lever.

On the screen, Clarke closes her eyes.

_This is not what you came to do._

He hears yelling behind him, a blanket of guards swarming into the room, surrounding Bellamy.

He kills them all, ducking and rolling under tables and chairs.

The world spins again, and he's back in the same city he and Clarke were in just a day or so ago, the City of Light, as Clarke had told him. People are walking about, filling the clean sidewalks. He catches sight of Clarke again, and he follows her, gun at the ready, because no one appears to see him.

Unfortunately, after some time, others start to follow Clarke, too, and they surround her in a small square, ready to kill her. He sees blood dripping from her nostrils, a bizarre mix of black and red. He lunges forward, releasing his bullets upon the others, trying to keep an eye on Clarke. He hears a feminine scream and sees blood fly into the air, and his eyes meet that of Lexa's, her dark hair pulled back in its normal style. 

His heart falters for a moment, but then Lexa smiles reassuringly at him, and together they fight their way through the fray, trying to make it to Clarke. When the clean pavement is scattered with bodies and blood, Bellamy reaches out to Clarke, but before he can touch her, the world starts its sickening spin again, and Bellamy falls to his knees.

He doesn't understand why he's in the bunker now, but he walks, the deafening bang of gunshots almost drowning out the sound of his heartbeat. Bellamy barely dodges some of the bullets and the knives coming from Skaikru and Grounders alike, but he takes them all down, not daring to observe their faces, not daring to listen to their voices. When it's all done and gone, Bellamy closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, he watches Pike put a gun again Lincoln's head. Octavia is shaking next to him, her face contorted. Bellamy's short pistol is no longer there—it's a rifle clutched tightly at his hand.

He raises it.

"You'll never make the shot," Octavia whispers, but her voice is hopeful.

"Watch me," Bellamy says, and then he fires.

One body falls, and another rises. Dark skin, dark eyes that pierce Bellamy from all the way over in Arkadia.

Octavia starts to cry, but then a smile outshines her tears.

"Lincoln," she breathes, and the world spins again.

Blue eyes, pleading, begging, overrun with tears.

"You won't do this," Clarke whispers, giving her hands a small shake, making the handcuffs around them clink together. She leans back in her chair, her fingers clutching the edge of the plain silver table in front of her.

He has to—something in his mind is telling him he has to do this.

The lights start flashing, and his vision goes from pitch black to dim visions of Clarke in her seat, and the room starts swaying from side to side, like they're in a ship sailing across choppy waters.

And he's somehow supposed to make a shot in this condition.

"Bellamy," Clarke says, her voice pulling him towards her in the darkness. "Please."

The lights flicker back on for a moment, and he catches a glimpse of Clarke's face before the room goes dark again.

"I can't do this," he murmurs to himself. "This isn't what I'm supposed to do."

But Clarke doesn't appear to hear him.

"Don't hurt me," she pleads. "Not  _you."_

Something in his brain switches back on, because his Clarke would never beg to be spared, not even from him.

And with this sad thought, he raises his gun and shoots Clarke in the heart when the lights come back on. 

* * *

"Bellamy?" Kaia says softly, taking the glasses from his outstretched hand. "Do you need to take a break?"

"No," he says, his voice uncharacteristically steady. "What now?"

Kaia hands him a knife and directs him to a raised platform. Bellamy grips the hilt of the knife tightly in his hand before Kaia hands him a balisong. 

"Clarke taught you to use one of these, right?" Kaia asks, entering commands in her tablet.

Bellamy swallows at the name but manages to smirk a little. "Involved a lot of yelling."

"Well, if you've seen her train, you know what to do," Kaia says softly, and Bellamy turns his head to see a plethora of golden figures advancing towards him.

With a small smile, he gets to work.

* * *

Kaia tosses him a water bottle, which Bellamy finishes in just under a minute. "How long are these damn assessments?" he mutters.

She grins and shrugs. "Long as necessary."

Bellamy scowls.

"Cheer up, Bellamy," Kaia mutters. "You get to see Clarke for a while now?"

"Really?" Bellamy asks. "Why?"

"You two get to beat the shit out of each other  _again!"_ Kaia says, opening another door to reveal Clarke standing there, fine beads of sweat making their way down her face.

"Hi," she says softly.

"Hey," he replies.

"Get married already," Kaia mutters when she passes him as she's walking to Clarke. "You sure you guys don't want a break? Most people take a break right here."

"We'll take a break when we need one," Bellamy mutters, kicking Kaia in the heel. 

"Fine," she says, glaring at him. "Come on, Clarke. Beat the shit out of this man."

Bellamy rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt off, and Kaia snickers at him. "God, Bellamy, you  _try-hard,"_ she says, motioning for Clarke to join them. 

"Shut the hell up before I beat you to death with something," Bellamy blurts.

"Break his bones, Clarke!" Kaia yells.

"I'll try to go easy on you," Clarke says with a devilish sort of smile when they face each other.

"I wouldn't sweat it," Bellamy says softly.

"Sparring with boxing rules, sort of," Kaia calls. "Knock the other person over, have them lie down for ten seconds. Ya got it?"

"Got it," Clarke calls.

"Whenever you're ready," Kaia declares, stepping away, and Bellamy kicks Clarke in the gut.

"God _damn!"_ she yells, and punches him in the face. Not taking time to regret the bruises that will replace the older, barely fading ones from all his other training, Bellamy tries to hook his leg around Clarke's, but she steps back to steady herself and elbows him in the chin. He responds to that with a high round kick that ruffles the top of her hair, making her ponytail swing wildly. He jabs at her stomach, and Clarke hooks her leg around his neck and moves it, making him stumble back.

"You're doing great!" Bellamy heaves.

"Thanks," Clarke mutters, attempting to punch him in the gut, but he backs away.

He lets himself dance around her for a while, smiling slightly.

"This isn't ballet, Bellamy," Clarke says, obviously trying to suppress a smile.

"Isn't it?" he asks, before kneeing her in the stomach. Clarke recovers alarmingly fast, and jumps.

The world seems to slow at that precise moment, and Clarke seems to soar, her leg arcing gracefully, her whole body twisting in midair. 

It's a lot faster than that, however—before he really even knows it, Clarke's foot is colliding with the side of his head, and his body is falling to the floor. This is merely the second time Clarke's ever beaten him in sparring, and she looks simultaneously surprised, apologetic, and proud.

"Ten!" Kaia screeches. "Nice, Clarke!"

"You okay?" Clarke asks softly, holding her hand out. Bellamy sighs and takes it, pulling himself up. "I'm still better than you most of the time."

"I know," she replies, her voice both teasing and sincere. "Just don't say you let me win and we'll be perfectly fine."

Bellamy grins.

"Okay, Clarke, you have to go back to your assessment room," Kaia declares. "You guys both demonstrated that you're pretty advanced at this, judging by your scores."

"We were scored?" Bellamy asks, his eyes focused on Clarke as Austin Creed ushers her into another room and out of Bellamy's sight.

"Everything you did was scored—how else would we know if you were ready?" Kaia asks.

"Why'd I spar Clarke?" Bellamy asks, pulling his shirt back on.

"Well," Kaia begins. "In the Academy, people are usually matched with other people in their year based on similarities in size and general strength. But seeing as you and Clarke aren't particularly in the Academy or even in an official class of initiates, we just had you spar each other."

"Alright," Bellamy says. "So, what next?"

"Camille and Austin removed the mental evaluation from your assessment, so for now, you're done," Kaia says with a sigh. 

"Did we pass?"

Kaia glares at her tablet for a minute. "Yeah, probably."

"Probably," Bellamy repeats dryly.

 _"Obviously!"_ Kaia snaps. "Dude, did you not notice that you just breezed through the assessment?"

"Not really?" Bellamy says.

Kaia rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you passed. Both of you are approved. And going to the palace tomorrow."

She sounds slightly bitter when she says this.

"Don't they send you on missions?" Bellamy asks.

"Not anymore," Kaia murmurs, putting her tablet down. Bellamy senses that there's a long story behind that response, so he stays silent. Kaia speaks up again. "Aren't you gonna ask?"

"I feel like I shouldn't," Bellamy says.

"Well, you're nicer than most people who find out," Kaia says absentmindedly, then freezes. "Tell anyone I called you nice and I will gut you like a fish."

"Yeah, yeah," Bellamy mutters.

Kaia seems to struggle with herself for a moment, then sighs. "I—um. I was on a mission with my best friend, and he—he died." Kaia looks at the floor. "It was my fault."

"Seeing as I wasn't there, I can't really tell you whether it was your fault or not," Bellamy says. "But I don't think that's why they don't send you on missions anymore."

"You're right, it's not," Kaia says. "They told me that watching someone so close to me die—they said I should take a break. A break that's lasted about a year, but sure. Let's call it a break." She pauses. "But I do think it's my fault. And maybe Camille and Austin know that, too."

"What happened?" Bellamy ventures to ask.

"I was too late," Kaia says, and Bellamy knows that the conversation ends there.

* * *

He hears a loud yawn, one he can only recognize as Clarke's. She's already in their dorm when he arrives, and Bellamy realizes that Clarke doesn't know he's here.

"Hey, Clarke—" he says, pushing her door open to see her lying face down on the bed, her hair damp from a shower.

"What?" she snaps.

"Did you eat?" Bellamy asks. "Didn't see you in the initiate mess hall."

"I think you already know the answer," Clarke mumbles, adjusting her body and curling up on top of the blankets, turning her back to him. "I'm too tired to eat."

"Clarke," Bellamy says softly.

"I'm okay, trust me. If I'm hungry I'll get something from the dorm kitchen."

She raises her head and turns it to him. "What about you? You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Bellamy says, going to sit on the edge of her bed. "Tired."

"Bellamy, I know we're both ignoring the obvious thing here," Clarke says, turning her body to face him.

"What will happen to us?" Bellamy asks softly.

"Us?" Clarke replies.

"Not—I—you know what I mean," he says, slightly embarrassed. "Clarke, if I'm being totally honest, I'm not completely open to another way to just gain more trauma in my life."

"That's why it's just us this time," Clarke responds quietly. "All of our friends, our people—they're safe. Kept safe by Russell. And we're just returning the favor, Bellamy. We don't have much to lose."

"Except each other," he says, trying to make her understand that she can't just rush into every fight that must be fought. 

Clarke sits up. "You won't lose me."

"Yeah, well, that's what I thought before Praimfaya, too, you know that?" Bellamy says. "We can never know for sure and I hate that we're volunteering to be in a situation where it could happen at any minute." Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but Bellamy cuts her off. "Listen, Clarke, I'm not underestimating you or even just trying to mother you."

He reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder, thumb curling into a damp lock of her hair. "Clarke, I'm telling you for completely selfish reasons. I don't  _want_ to lose you."

"You won't," Clarke says, but she seems unsure.

"It's too late to go back now," Bellamy says quietly. "But Clarke, you have to know that I couldn't deal with losing you again. Even though you weren't really gone the first time, I had to endure six years of knowing that my—my best friend was dead. And if something happens to you—"

"Bellamy—"

"—I couldn't stand that feeling for another day, much less the rest of my life." He sighs. "I'm not strong, Clarke. No matter how many times I've tried to tell myself otherwise, I can't live without you."

Clarke looks up at him for a long moment, then slowly moves her head to put it in his lap.

"I can't, Clarke," he repeats, looking up. "I can't do it without you."

It's the closest thing to an  _I love you_ he can possibly have, but for now, it'll have to be enough for the both of them.

* * *

"Be safe," Russell's voice rings from the monitor in one of the Academy control rooms.

"Don't die," Murphy adds from behind them.

"Please," Emori insists.

"It would be a shame if you did," Shaw says.

"Very upsetting," Raven agrees.

"This sounds really sarcastic," Clarke says dryly beside Bellamy.

"Seriously, though," Jordan says. "We mean it. Be safe."

Bellamy nods. "We'll do our best."

"Bell," Octavia says in a soft voice.

"O," he says, looking into her eyes.

"You're going to come back," Octavia says, and everyone else in the world except for him and his sister disappears.

"I will," he promises. 

"We will meet again," Octavia says.

"Counting on it," Bellamy replies, giving her a swift smile.

The screen goes dark, and Kaia sighs.

"I'd give you the be safe speech, but they already did it," Kaia says, then surprisingly, gives Bellamy a swift hug. 

"Please don't die, okay?" she whispers in his ear. 

"I'll try not to," Bellamy replies.

Kaia pulls away. "You guys ready?"

Bellamy glances at Clarke, who reaches out and touches his hand, a reassuring brush of fingers against skin.

"Yeah," Bellamy says. "We are."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha sorry i've been setting up this mission thing for so long I promise you'll get it next chapter


	35. So You Don't Know Where You're Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He and Clarke make it to the queen, and Bellamy learns some alarming secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finals are upon me so this is the last chapter for a while

"Don't shoot!" Bellamy yells, approaching the Glass Palace. He raises his arms, and glances at Clarke until she does the same.

"Security's tightened," Clarke murmurs to him.

"They know something's going on," Bellamy says to her, and lets a guard shove him back.

"You're them," a female guard says gruffly. "The queen's been looking for you two."

Clarke glances at Bellamy—they hadn't been expecting that.

"Didn't think the fun would begin so soon," Bellamy mutters, when the guards handcuff him and Clarke together.

"Yeah?" Clarke snarls at him. He knows what she's thinking—what use will they be if they're in prison.

"Hey!" they hear a familiar voice call. "There's no need for that!"

"Gemma," one of the guards says warningly. 

"Let them go," the queen of Aurora says. "This is no way to treat guests."

The woman strides into view, a practical silver band upon her hand shining rose gold in the light of the setting suns. "Bellamy," she says, almost warmly, reaching out and pressing her finger to a flat surface on the handcuffs, unlocking them instantly. "It's nice to see you."

Bellamy finds that he has nothing to say at all.

"And Clarke," the queen says, her tone slightly colder, more clinical. 

Clarke nods her head in greeting, her eyes never leaving the queen's eyes.

"Go," Gemma says to the guards. "I'll take them."

* * *

"I'm afraid I know why you're here," Gemma says softly, leading them through a tunnel of glass high in the air, connecting two towers of the palace. Bellamy's blood turns ice cold when she says it, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Clarke's nostrils flare.

"You've realized that I've lied to you," Gemma continues. "You know now that the Speculo was not of my creation, and you've come to ask me about it. Because, I guess there aren't very many efficient ways of talking to me."

Clarke's shoulders fall in a silent sigh of relief, but Bellamy isn't entirely convinced.

"I know that it was made by someone in my own country," Gemma says, rubbing her eyes, and she looks more like a child who has had responsibility forced onto her before she could handle it then a power-hungry woman. "And I ran all those tests on you to try to understand what was going on."

"Find anything worth your time?" Clarke asks.

"Every time I got somewhere I met a dead end," Gemma says. "But what I could gather from your memories is that both of you seemed to understand this better than I did."

"That's why you were looking for us," Bellamy muses. 

"I want this thing gone," Gemma says, sounding angry for the first time. "This is a weapon. This could be used to enhance the human brain beyond my control. It could take me off the throne."

Clarke looks a little surprised at this, the blatant narcissism, and all sympathy Bellamy feels towards the queen rapidly evaporates.

"Forgive me," the queen says, not sounding sorry at all. "It's just that I believe I know what is best for us."

At this, Gemma turns around to give them a beseeching look. "I only ever wanted to be as good as the ones who came before me."

_The ones who burned a whole city for opposing them._

"Of course," Clarke murmurs. "And you want us here because you can't figure it out yourself."

Bellamy wants to beg her to stop being so snappy with the queen, because if one looks at the big picture, for now, he and Clarke are almost completely at the queen's mercy.

Gemma glares at Clarke before sighing. "I can't reach a conclusion without you two."

"So how do you intend to do it?" Bellamy asks, before Clarke can say anything. 

"I want you guys working with my scientific division on this. You have information that they need to decipher what exactly this thing is and how to take it apart. And of course, know its origins."

"Even we don't know that," Clarke says.

"You don't need to," Gemma says. "I trust you can find your old quarters from here?" she asks when they reach a familiar hallway.

"Sure," Bellamy says, stepping on Clarke's foot. "Thank you."

"Thank _you,"_ Gemma says, before walking away.

* * *

It really doesn't take him too long to find the queen's sister.

He's walking down one of spiraling glass stairs after an uneventful meeting with a bunch of scientists when he bumps into Gemma. Feeling suddenly mortified, he steps back. "Oh, uh, sorry, Gemma. I mean, your highness or whatever—"

"Oh, I'm not—" the woman starts, and Bellamy realizes that it's not Gemma, but someone who looks remarkably like her, except with warmer eyes, a bright green like Kaia's, unlike Gemma's dark brown ones. "I'm Audrey. Audrey Kal."

"Nice to meet you, Audrey," Bellamy says.

"Uh huh," Audrey says, fidgeting with her fingers.

"So, um—" Bellamy starts.

"Who are you and why are you here?" Audrey asks suddenly, then covers her mouth. "Woah, sorry. That was rude. It was a reasonable question, though."

"Bellamy Blake. I just happen to be in the resistance and I'm trying to take your sister down," Bellamy says conversationally leaning against the wall.

Audrey's lips curl into a genuine grin. "You're funny. That was a good joke."

"Wasn't it?" Bellamy asks, reciprocating her blinding smile. He realizes it's strangely easy to smile around her.

"Yeah," Audrey says. "But really, why are you here?"

""Helping her Majesty with some research," Bellamy says.

"Must be dead boring," Audrey mutters. "All the scientists are jackasses. But they all answer to the supreme jackass."

"Your sister," Bellamy says seriously.

Audrey covers her mouth again. "No, I mean, I—" She clears her throat. "Nothing again my sister, of course. She's everything people should aspire to be. Crown of the West and all." The words sound rehearsed, and Audrey sighs and starts walking. "I should get going."

Bellamy understands he's taking a huge risk, but he speaks up. "Wait, Audrey."

Audrey turns around.

"That thing I said earlier?" Bellamy says, crossing his fingers behind his back. "I wasn't joking."

The deathly still silence that follows has him expecting guards to come crawling out of corners to arrest him, and Bellamy's about to say that he was kidding again when Audrey says, so quietly he almost doesn't hear her, "I know."

"You know?" Bellamy whispers.

"I'm not part of the Resistance," Audrey says, stepping close to him. "But I know what happens there. I have a source within the Resistance."

Bellamy knows who it is immediately. "Kaia."

"You know her?" Audrey asks.

"I—"

"Audrey. There you are," Bellamy hears the queen call from a few flights of stairs up, and Bellamy thanks every god in existence that he and Audrey were talking in hushed whispers. "Come have dinner."

"I'm coming!" Audrey calls. "I'll see you around, Bellamy."

* * *

"What's today's news?" Clarke asks in a quiet voice, as they walk down the hall towards their rooms.

"I met the queen's sister."

"Resistance material?" Clarke murmurs.

"See, the thing is, I don't really have to do anything," Bellamy says. "Audrey already knows why we're here. She's been in contact with Kaia."

"Kaia's a traitor to the Resistance?" Clarke asks, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

"No, Audrey's a traitor to her sister. She  _wants_ to take her down. Although it may not be official, I feel like she's already part of the Resistance."

"Why are you smiling?" Clarke asks suspiciously.

"This means I can help  _you!"_ Bellamy declares.

"No, it doesn't," Clarke says with a tone of maddening superiority. "It's obvious."

"What's obvious?" Bellamy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You need to  _help her!"_ Clarke says, shoving his shoulder. "She can't do this alone. And that makes—" Clarke glances around the hallway. "—three people who are in contact with Kaia from inside the palace. Whatever Audrey's been doing might be impressive, but she sure as hell can't do it alone. You need to understand what she's doing, and use your resources to help her."

"Resources," Bellamy repeats with a smirk.

"Ew, Bellamy, not those resources!" Clarke exclaims. She drops her voice and pulls him close, her lips moving against his ear as she speaks quietly. "Every hidden form of communication the Resistance sent us with."

He pulls away. "Yeah, I know. And you?"

"I'm trying to find out where the queen keeps her experiment records," Clarke says. "Tried getting it out of some of those idiots in lab coats, but Gemma's keeping them quiet."

"So great start for me and no start for you," Bellamy concludes, sighing.

"I'll catch up," Clarke says. "Don't worry."

* * *

He wakes in the morning to find Clarke leaning heavily against one of the walls, her hands clenched in fists.

"Clarke?" Bellamy asks, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Bellamy," Clarke breathes, and then she falls to the floor.

"Hey, hey!" Bellamy exclaims, running over to her. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

"I don't know what's happening," she says, clutching his shirt. "Bellamy—"

She sounds terrified, her whole body shaking against his. Bellamy notices something dark at her hands, and lifts her wrist up to her eyes to see that her veins have turned a solid, inky black, and when he looks into her eyes, the blood vessels are dark, too.

"Bellamy?" she asks weakly.

"It's okay," he says, grabbing her shoulders and steadying her. "I'm going to get help, okay?"

"No!" she snaps. "No," she repeats with more softness. "Please." She drops her voice to a whisper. "They can't know..."

And then Clarke doubles over with a gasp of pain, flinging her arms around his neck. She starts to sob into the juncture between Bellamy's neck and shoulder.

"Clarke, please, you have to tell me what you feel."

"Pain," she chokes out into his ear. "I can't—"

She lets out a sob mixed with another yell, crying harder and clutching him tighter. "Bellamy!"

Bellamy scrambles for a solution, a way to help Clarke without letting them know what's happening.

_Audrey._

Bellamy lets go of Clarke leaves her leaning against the wall, and grabs the thin tablet that was hidden in his jacket pocket. He switches it on, and makes a call on a secure channel.

 _"Bellamy?"_ Kaia's voice says tiredly.  _"What is it?"_

"I need you to ask Audrey to come to our rooms," Bellamy says in one breath.

_"What? Audrey?"_

"Yeah. My mission, turns out not so much my mission as yours."

_"It was my intention for you to help her. Look, I'll talk to her right now. If she's available."_

"Thank you," he breathes, then shuts it off. He runs back to Clarke and gathers her in his arms. "It's okay, Clarke."

"I didn't know," she says, tears streaming down her face. "I was okay, Bellamy, I swear I'm not lying—"

"It's okay," he murmurs. "I believe you."

"I think—" she begins, then pauses to press her face to his chest, breathing fast. "I think it's the nightblood."

"What does it feel like?" Bellamy asks.

"Like someone replaced my blood with acid," she shudders. "Bellamy..."

"Shh," he murmurs, cupping her cheek. "It's okay. We're going to fix you."

"Who?" she asks, her eyes widening. 

"The queen's sister," Bellamy says. 

Clarke doesn't look pleased, but she certainly looks too pained to protest. After several agonizing minutes, Bellamy hears someone knocking on the door, and he leaves Clarke to go to it.

"Who is it?" he asks, leaning against the door.

"Audrey," the princess of Aurora answers, and Bellamy pushes the door open.

"What happened?" Audrey asks, running over to Clarke. 

"Her blood's reacting to something," Bellamy says, watching as Audrey pulls Clarke into a weak standing position.

"Her blood's different," Audrey says. "I thought—"

"What?" Bellamy asks.

"I saw a vial of black blood in my sister's lab once. Was it hers?" Audrey asks, jerking her chin towards Clarke.

"It was," Clarke murmurs weakly.

"What did your sister do with that blood?" Bellamy bursts out, rushing to catch Clarke before she falls again.

"Nothing," Audrey answers, walking over to the door and motioning for them to follow her. "She left it there for weeks."

"Is it still there? What happened?" Bellamy continues.

"There's nothing left," Audrey says darkly. "It started to boil, and burned whatever it touched."

"So my blood is  _literally_ boiling?" Clarke mutters.

"Your blood is killing you, that's what it is," Audrey says, disappearing through a corridor that Bellamy had not noticed before. "I ran some tests when my sister wasn't aware. Your blood was reacting negatively to everything about this planet...?"

"Clarke," Bellamy says.

"Clarke," Audrey continues. "Barometric pressure, climate, radiation—"

"My blood can withstand high levels of radiation," Clarke snaps, her arms around both Audrey and Bellamy as they help her walk.

"See, that's the thing. I don't fully understand what the hell is going on, but your blood, I guess, has nothing to do. It's like—blood designed for the sole purpose of fighting something. And your blood has nothing to balance out its destructive properties, so now it's—"

"Destroying me," Clarke breathes.

"Yeah," Audrey says, helping her into a small room. "Lie down here," Audrey commands, pointing at a bed. Bellamy tugs his hands under Clarke's knees and back and lifts her up, setting her on the bed. "I need to understand what's happening."

"Are you a doctor?" Bellamy asks.

"Yeah," Audrey says without an ounce of hesitation. "Shut the door and lock it."

He does.

Clarke passes out, and Bellamy rushes to her bed.

"Stand back, Bellamy," Audrey says. 

"Audrey—"

"Trust me," Audrey pleads. "Actually—" she hands him a syringe. "—inject Clarke with this. It should take away some of the effects for a bit."

Bellamy tightens his grip on the syringe and glances at Clarke, before shoving the needle into her arm. Her body jolts, and Bellamy reflexively puts his hands on her shoulders, holding her down.

"Audrey?" he asks.

"It's bad," Audrey says, staring at her monitor with horror. "Bellamy—oh, oh god."

Clarke starts to convulse on the table, black foam bubbling from her mouth. Audrey shoves Bellamy away and puts one hand on Clarke's heart, and the fingers of the other hand at Clarke's pulse. "Her heart's stopped."

"Move," Bellamy hisses. He positions his hands over Clarke's hands and starts to push, counting out loud. After thirty, he wipes the blood from the corner of her mouth, leans forward and tips Clarke's head up, pinching her nose, pressing his mouth to hers and breathing.

Clarke still shakes, blood streaming from her nose now.

So he repeats.

"Wake up," he says between chest compressions. "Wake up."

"I'm getting the defibrillator," he hears Audrey say from behind him.

Bellamy lowers his mouth to Clarke's and breathes again.

"Clarke—" he says.

_one_

_two_

_three_

_four_

_five_

_six_

_seven_

_eight_

_nine_

_ten_

_eleven_

_twelve_

_thirteen_

_come on Clarke you can do this_

_seventeen_

_eighteen_

_nineteen_

_twenty_

_please_

_twenty-one_

_twenty-two_

_damn it, Clarke_

_twenty-four_

_twenty-five_

_wake up_

_twenty-seven_

_twenty-eight_

_please_

_twenty-nine_

_thirty._

Bellamy unzips her jacket so fast it almost tears, and Audrey grabs a pair of scissors to cut down the middle of her shirt. Bellamy pushes the fabric away, exposing her bare stomach, black lines snaking underneath her skin. He backs away as Audrey presses the pads to her skin.

"Okay," Audrey breathes, powering on the AED. "One, two—"

Clarke's back arches up as a shock is delivered.

"Again," Bellamy says, approaching hysteria.

Audrey pushes the shock button again.

Clarke's eyes snap open and she coughs and coughs, twisting her body to vomit viscous black blood onto the pristine white floor, her nose still bleeding. A.udrey powers off the AED

Bellamy gasps and pulls her close. "Clarke," he breathes.

"What?" Clarke asks, looking tired but alert.

"You died," Bellamy says, unable to keep his relieved smile off his face.

"Finally," Clarke murmurs, gingerly lifting a hand to wipe blood off her face.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, the insane urge to laugh bubbling in his chest.

"No," Clarke says. "What did you do?"

"We had to use a defibrillator," Audrey says seriously, reaching out and pulling the pads off Clarke's skin. Bellamy reaches out and zips up her jacket over the torn shirt, keeping his eyes on the zipper the whole time. When the jacket is zipped up and he meets her eyes, he finds Clarke looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Bellamy says immediately, feeling the tips of his ears burn. "I wasn't—I mean—"

"You say that as if you never looked before," Clarke says, halfheartedly rolling her eyes and leaning back.

"I did not," Bellamy says solemnly.

Clarke tilts her head.

"Once or twice when we first landed," Bellamy mutters, putting his hands on her shoulders to hold her up. "But I hated you."

"Likewise."

"You're alive," Bellamy says softly, his relief intensifying hundredfold in that instant. He presses feverish kisses to her forehead, not caring a single bit at all.

"I hate to interrupt this, but I have some bad news," he hears Audrey say.

"What is it?" Clarke asks, rubbing her temples.

"You're alive now, but you—" Audrey pauses, looking away. "It's bad. All of your internal organs will slowly shut down. Your brain will stop working, and your heart will stop beating. And in the end, we can't bring it back like we did this time."

All of Bellamy's relief disappears in an instant, his smile sliding off his face. "What?"

"The electricity created a crude sort of temporary balance in Clarke's blood, but it won't be like this for long. It's killing you, Clarke," Audrey sighs.

"And there's nothing we can do to stop it?" Bellamy asks in disbelief. "Audrey—?"

"I'm sorry," Audrey mumbles.

After a heavy silence, Clarke looks up. "How long do I have?"

"Clarke!" Bellamy says.

"At the rate the damage is spreading," Audrey says, swallowing. "A month and a half before your senses slowly become dysfunctional. Another few weeks after that before you can't receive oxygen—"

Audrey breaks off, looking disturbed.

"She's going to suffocate," Bellamy says, his own voice sounding unfamiliar to his ears. Sudden rage washes through his brain. "Why is it affecting her  _now?_ We've been on this planet for more than a year!"

If Audrey notices the odd unit of time, she doesn't comment. "I don't know, Bellamy."

"We have to go back," Bellamy says, turning to Clarke.

"That's not what we have to do," Clarke says, her voice dangerously calm.

"Yes, it is!" he exclaims. "We'll go, maybe the Resistance, or Russell, they'll know what to do, they'll cure you— **"**

"It's my life against the life of millions," Clarke says, grabbing his hand. "What if Gemma bombs another city because getting me stuck on bedrest for months was a top priority?"

"Clarke—!"

"No. What we have to do, we have to do it fast. What we have to do, is carry out this mission. Okay?"

"Clarke, he's right," Audrey says in a quiet voice.

"He's not," Clarke says. 

"You are going to die!" Bellamy yells. "And you're telling me that you want to do nothing about it?"

"I'm telling you that I have things that I want to do more! Things that I  _need_ to do!" Clarke snaps, sliding off the bed. She wobbles on her feet a little bit, but grabs the table when Bellamy holds out a hand to steady her. He retracts his hand, feeling like all his bones have been replaced with lead.

"Our allegiance isn't to these people, Clarke!" Bellamy implores.

"These are our people now," Clarke replies, before walking out of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cool so my search history is hella wack cuz i'm writing this  
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS ARE WELCOME  
> UNLIKE SHITKRU'S ATTITUDE TOWARDS CLARKE


	36. And You Wanna Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's alarming deadline has them both working around the clock.

For the next few days, they barely see each other except for rushed conversations early in the morning and late in the night, and glances across long conference tables. Every time he tries to talk to her about what happened, Clarke either ignores him or gets mad at him, and by the end of the week, they're barely speaking to each other.

But Clarke's not experiencing any pain anymore, as far as he can see.

"What's going on with you?" he asks, standing in front of her door and crossing her arms.

"What do you mean?" she asks, a piece of hair falling out of her messy bun and landing squarely in front of her eye, and Bellamy wants to brush it away.

"You're telling me it doesn't hurt anymore?" Bellamy asks, stepping close to her.

"Audrey gave me some medicine for it," Clarke says evasively.

"Seriously? You're gonna rely on pills now?"

"I'm not relying on them!" Clarke says indignantly, stepping closer and glaring into his eyes. Her condition is starting to present itself physically, and in a twist of cruel irony, it makes her even more magnetically beautiful than ever. Her eyes are fever bright, minuscule streaks of black shining in the bright blue irises. Her face has slowly drained of all color since her incident, making all her features look sharper and more prominent.

"I think you should go home," Bellamy says, finally moving the piece of hair out of her face. "Have you seen yourself? It's not like I technically have to finish my objective either way."

"I'm not having this conversation right now!" Clarke hisses, getting even closer.

"Since when is your tactic to just ignore everything that happens to affect you in a negative way?" Bellamy asks, also getting closer, the tip of his nose touching Clarke's.

"Shut up," Clarke breathes, her breath ghosting over his mouth.

"Make me," he says without thinking.

Suddenly, almost violently, Clarke's hand comes to grab the back of his neck and everything in his vision explodes into blurred colors except for Clarke as she tugs him just a millimeter closer—

But not close enough, because their lips don't touch before they hear a loud bang on the door. At some point, Bellamy had wrapped his arms around Clarke, but he releases her immediately.

"Who is it?" he calls, his voice shaky.

"Audrey," Audrey yells.

"And Kaia!" another voice calls, and Clarke pushes past him, throwing open the door. Clarke envelopes Kaia in a hug, and Kaia pulls away looking concerned. "Audrey, what happened to her? She looks terrible."

"Why are you here?" Bellamy asks, walking over to Kaia.

"Audrey told me something was wrong with Clarke. I came to take her back."

"No."

Everyone turns to face Clarke, who has subtly put her hand against the wall to support herself.

"Take Bellamy," Clarke says. "His work is done here."

Bellamy doesn't miss the way Audrey glances at Clarke.

"You heard what I said," Clarke says.

"I'm not leaving you," Bellamy declares.

"Well, you're not helping me in any way," Clarke says.

"FIne!" Bellamy cries, feeling stressed in a way that makes his head spin. "No one's going anywhere. Not even you. Happy?"

"I have my orders," Kaia says fervently.

"Then go back and say you didn't follow them," Clarke commands. "Whatever happens, I'm not going back until I have to."

Kaia pauses, looking incensed. Audrey puts a hand on her shoulder, and Kaia relaxes.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Kaia says, putting her hands on Clarke's shoulders.

Clarke nods. "Go. Now."

Kaia swallows and leaves.

"Came all the way over here for nothing," Clarke mutters darkly, as Audrey goes after Kaia.

"Clarke," Bellamy says, his heart starting to pound, remembering the feel of his hands on the curve of Clarke's waist, her breath mingling with his.

He has dreamed and fantasized, but this is something they cannot come back from.

A door has opened, and Bellamy doesn't yet understand whether it should stay open.

_There is no going back now._

He hears a broken sort of cough, and snaps out of his daze to see Clarke stumbling into her bedroom. Bellamy follows her just in time to see Clarke shakily shove a needle into her arm.

"Clarke," Bellamy says softly.

"I'm going to make this okay," Clarke says, putting the syringe down with trembling fingers.

"How? What's your plan?"

"I found the files," she whispers, so quietly he almost doesn't hear her.

"And?" Bellamy asks.

"I'm going to steal them."

"When?" Bellamy breathes.

She looks at him with bloodshot eyes, an almost unnoticeable black hue around her pupils.

"Tonight."

* * *

"Did you take the syringe?" Bellamy asks, zipping up her jacket.

"I did," Clarke says, grabbing her knife from the table and tucking it into her pocket. After a moment of silence, she speaks up again. "Thank you for letting me go."

"I don't want you to go!" he snaps. "I don't."

"Look, I'll be in and out in no time," Clarke says.

"You could've, if you were at your best," Bellamy implores. "You're going to—"

"Die," Clarke says without an ounce of emotion. "That's why we have to do this fast." She claps a hand over her mouth.

"What is it?" Bellamy asks.

Clarke looks at him with a horrified expression. "Madi."

Bellamy gasps. "Oh,  _shit."_

"The Flame," Clarke breathes, her expression relaxing at once. "God, I should've  _known."_

"The Flame? How is that—?"

"The Flame is completely embedded in the nervous system. It's stabilizing her."

Bellamy relaxes, but Clarke doesn't look too pleased.

"What about you, though?" Bellamy asks.

"I'll do what must be done," Clarke says softly.

"And then you'll just, what? Give up?" Bellamy asks, feeling tears sting his eyes. "The medicine won't sustain you forever."

Clarke puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"One day you're going to leave and you won't come back," Bellamy whispers. "It'll be over. No more nightblood, no more—"

"You're right," Clarke breathes. "I won't come back."

 Bellamy closes his eyes.

"But I'm coming back tonight," Clarke continues, moving her hand to cup his chin. "I promise."

* * *

Bellamy presses the cool tablet against his forehead, tapping his finger against it. 

It's been one hour.

Clarke promised him it would take three.

Making a sudden decision, he lowers the tablet and activates it, selecting the person he wants to contact.

After a moment, Kaia's tinny voice reaches his ears.

_"What is it, Bellamy?"_

"Is there any way I can communicate with... with Eligius?" he asks, adding the last two words in a whisper. He fears Kaia won't hear him, but she does.

_"What? Why?"_

"I just want to talk to my family," he murmurs.

 _"Only the highest level of Command can communicate with Russell,"_ Kaia says, sounding panicked.

"Camille and Austin," Bellamy realizes. He lifts a hand and rubs his eyes, then pinches the bridge of his nose.

 _"You don't trust them, do you?"_ Kaia asks in a soft voice.

Bellamy chooses to ignore this question. "Is there any way you can communicate with them yourself?"

_"Not now, Bellamy. I didn't return to Ocean Sector. Is it urgent?"_

Bellamy swallows.

"No," he says. "It's not."

He cuts the connection.

"What now?" he asks himself, swallowing.

_Now we wait._

* * *

Two hours and counting.

Bellamy sits up straight, having a sudden idea.

The tablet was given to him by Ocean Sector—there must be some way.

But Bellamy's no good at technology.

He wishes he had Raven.

Bellamy activates the tablet, goes into the contact list.

**Kaia Theron**

It's the only name that shows on the screen, and Bellamy sighs, flicking his finger across the screen in annoyance.

It scrolls down, revealing a folder titled—

**Omega Communications**

Swallowing slightly, Bellamy selects the folder. A box pops up, demanding a password. Letters, not numbers.

Bellamy groans in frustration, shutting his eyes tight.

But in all honesty, strangely, he knows Austin and Camille better than the resistance does, probably.

But does he really know anything important?

And who even set the password?

 _Xander,_ he types.

Nothing.

_Jonas._

_Caroline._

Bellamy sighs, leaning back.

_Cordelia Heights._

The idea hits him immediately, and Bellamy types it so fast that his fingers appear blurred over the screen.

A green line shoots through his words, and the box disappears, giving way to another list of names.

**Jamara Davis**

**Audrey Kal**

Bellamy scowls. He could've contacted her from this tablet the whole time?

**Maxwell Theron**

**Daisy Ward**

Bellamy feels a sickening feeling at the name. It's barely more than a memory of the Speculo, and he can't entirely remember exactly what happened anymore, but it fills him with dread.

**Camille Creed**

**Austin Creed**

**C4 _(do not contact)_**

Bellamy massages his cheek.

Who could  _C4_ be?

_It's not who I'm looking for._

**Russell Hall**

**Alexander Hall**

Bellamy selects Russell's contact, and calls him.

After 47 agonizing seconds, Russell's voice rings out.

_"Who is this?"_

Bellamy lets out a shaky inhale of relief.

"Bellamy."

_"Bellamy! How'd you—how did you contact me?"_

"Never mind that now," Bellamy says roughly. "Can you patch me through to—to Echo?"

_"Echo kom Azgeda?"_

"Yes. Can you do it?"

There's a sigh on the other end.

_"One minute."_

Bellamy swallows and waits.

Soon enough, he hears Echo's familiar voice in his ears.

_"Hello?"_

Bellamy suddenly feels afraid. He hasn't spoken to Echo for so long, and now he has no idea what to say.

_Just be blunt._

"I need to speak to Madi," he blurts.

_"Is something wrong?"_

"Echo, I don't have time to explain to you right now," Bellamy says urgently. "Where is she? Isn't she still living with you?"

_"She's living with Niylah and Octavia now."_

"Niylah and—? Never mind. Please, Echo. I have to talk to her."

_"Bellamy—"_

"Please, Echo!"

_"Alright, Bellamy. Please give me a minute."_

Yet again, silence falls, and Bellamy presses a hand to his pounding heart.

_Two hours and thirty minutes._

_"Bellamy? Is that you?"_

Madi's voice calms Bellamy, and he sighs. 

"Hey, Madi," he begins. "Are you alright?"

_"Yeah, why?"_

"Not experiencing any pain? Anything bad at all?"

_"No."_

Bellamy swallows.

"Okay, Madi. What's going on with Gaia's circle?"

_"Is this an interrogation?"_

"No, Madi," Bellamy sighs. "I just—was—is there a chance that there was another Flame?"

_"No, Bellamy! No way."_

Bellamy sighs. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

_"Is everything okay? Is Clarke okay?"_

Bellamy swallows. "I thought you weren't speaking to her."

 _"I still care,"_ Madi says softly, sounding less like a commander and more like a chastised child.

"She cares, too," Bellamy replies. "And—"

He pauses, swallowing.

"She's okay."

_"Alright."_

"Are Niylah and Octavia doing okay?"

 _"Doing each other, more like,"_ Madi mutters.

"Madi," Bellamy says, a small smile breaking through his persistent haze of panic.

_"Oh, sorry. You didn't hear it from me."_

"If you say so," Bellamy says, then glances at the clock. "I have to go."

Madi murmurs a goodbye, and the connection is cut.

"Come on, Clarke," he mutters under his breath. "Where are you?"

At that precise moment, an ear-splitting siren pierces his thoughts, and Bellamy instinctively drops the tablet and claps his hands over his ears.

He stands and looks up when a tinny voice crackles to life, and Bellamy searches for some sort of speaker.

_"There is a traitor within the castle. All royal residents will be locked into their quarters in thirty seconds."_

He knows who it is immediately.

"Clarke," he says to himself, and rushes to the door.

_"Fifteen seconds."_

Bellamy shoves the door open and kicks it closed, sprinting towards the residential entrance.

_"Ten seconds."_

The corridors blur past him, and then he sees her.

Running towards him, something clutched tightly in her hand.

From where Bellamy stands, Clarke can't see him.

_"Five seconds."_

Out of nowhere, a guard grabs Clarke by her hair, making her scream.

_"Four seconds."_

They start to drag her away. Clarke struggles, but she cannot escape the four people that are now onto her.

_"Three seconds."_

Clarke screams and screams and Bellamy runs out into the open, running to her. The guards backs are turned, and they don't see him.

_"Two seconds."_

They pull her through a doorway and Clarke starts to scream his name.

_"One second."_

All the hope leaves Clarke’s eyes and Bellamy tries and tries to run faster but he can’t—

_“Zero seconds. Residential wing sealing now.”_

The doors slide shut.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a thick chapter to celebrate me being done with finals!!!


	37. And You Feel Like You're Going Where You've Been Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds himself in a bad situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is flopping lmao i think

He sees no other option than to go back to his room.

Bellamy paces madly, pressure building in his chest, fear and panic wrapping around his whole body and making it so hard to breathe—

_(It's my fault why didn't I see her sooner this is all my fault)_

His door is violently shoved open, and Audrey stands there flanked by two guards.

"Bellamy Blake?" Audrey says, her voice uncharacteristically formal.

"Aud—"

"The queen has requested to see you," Audrey says, her voice still flat but a warning flash in her eyes.

"No, I—" Bellamy starts.

"We aren't asking," Audrey says, walking forward and forcefully grabbing Bellamy's arm with bruising pressure. "Let's go."

* * *

They bring him to an immaculate dining hall, and Bellamy stares at the queen, whose back is to him as she gazes out the vast floor-to-ceiling window.

"Are you wearing anything nice, Bellamy?" Gemma asks, still not looking at him.

"No," Bellamy says, unsure of what else to say.

Gemma  _tsks._ "This is a formal dinner, Bellamy. But don't worry."

Gemma turns and pulls a black blazer off the back of a chair and hands it to Bellamy. "Put this on, please."

Bellamy snatches the jacket out of her hands and examines it before shrugging it on. Suspiciously, it does fit him perfectly.

"I'm sure you can understand why I asked you to come here," Gemma says, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. "It is, of course, about Clarke."

Bellamy stands behind another chair, refusing to speak.

"She is, of course, in the detention wing," Gemma continues. "But that's not what we're here to speak about."

Bellamy glares at the table.

"Sit down," Gemma says.

"No," Bellamy replies immediately.

"Was it a request?" Gemma hisses.

Bellamy sits down opposite from her, lacing his fingers together on the table in front of him.

"Did you know?" she asks.

"Did I know what?" Bellamy counters.

"Did you know that Clarke was going to attempt to take my most valuable research?" Gemma asks, glaring sharply at him with her cold eyes.

Bellamy swallows, thinking fast.

"I had assumed Clarke and I were here for the same thing," he finally says. "I guess I was mistaken."

"Don't play stupid with me," Gemma snaps. "I know how close she is to you."

_Tell the truth. Part of it._

"She told me she wanted to," Bellamy declares. "But I didn't take her seriously. Clarke's been through a lot," he says, sighing. "Thinks there's danger around every corner.". 

Gemma swears colorfully under her breath. "Don't you dare lie to me."

Bellamy lays his palm flat on the table. "I had nothing to do with this!"

Gemma leans back, evidently thinking hard.

"Clarke Griffin is expendable to you," the queen finally says.

Bellamy slips a hand under his table and clenches his fist hard enough for his nails to pierce his skin and draw blood.

"Yes."

"Now, Bellamy, what did I say about lying?" Gemma says, but there's a teasing edge to her voice now. "I know you love her."  

Bellamy looks up. 

"She betrayed me," he says, his voice terrifyingly steady. "Despite my love for her, I'll let her go. She did a bad thing."

"I never took you for a pragmatist, Bellamy," Gemma says, looking pleased.

_I'll find that detention wing. And I'll get her out of here._

"Pragmatism is the most effective way to stay alive," Bellamy says, feigning resigned disinterest.

"Of course," Gemma says. "And you're sure you had nothing to do with what Clarke has done?"

"I'm sure," Bellamy implores, with the sinking feeling that Gemma knows he's lying.

"Alright, then," Gemma says. "Clarke's execution will be in four days."

"Execution," Bellamy deadpans. 

"For treason," the queen specifies. "You agree that is it only fitting, of course?"

"Of course," Bellamy repeats, his heart beating so loudly he's sure Gemma can hear it. "Exactly what she deserves."

He gets up to leave, but then Gemma starts talking again.

"Clarke doesn't understand," Gemma says softly. "What I had to do for my people. What I did to unify them."

Bellamy pauses.

"Clarke thinks too much," she continues. "Fears too much. She's more dangerous than anyone could imagine, as well."

The queen chuckles. "I've seen it in her eyes. Murder."

_What you wouldn't do to see into her head._

"It makes me wonder what she went through. It makes me wonder what her agenda is."

Bellamy turns around to face her, sees an unspoken question in the queen's eyes. He stares at her for a long moment.

"I wouldn't know."

* * *

The following morning, he's greeted by Audrey knocking on his door.

"Audrey," Bellamy whispers, rubbing his eyes. He hasn't slept at all.

"I'll take you to her," Audrey says in a hurried hush. 

"Clarke?" he asks brokenly.

"We have to go now, before she's moved to the isolation ward," Audrey says. "Come on. Kaia's waiting."

* * *

She's weak.

Clarke lies curled up on the metal bench in  the small room, Audrey pulls a minuscule chip out of her pocket and presses it to a small rectangle engraved in the door.

The door slides open and after a moment Bellamy feels a small, familiar hand land on his shoulder. He turns his head to see the golden hair and the glittering green eyes, and gives Kaia's hand a squeeze.

"Clarke," he breathes, stepping into the room, still holding onto Kaia.

"Hey," Clarke chokes out, lifting her face to reveal a heavily bruised cheek.

"I—" Bellamy starts, then lets go of Kaia, rushing to Clarke. "Are you—"

He turns to Audrey. "She's bad, Audrey. You said she had more time—!"

Audrey fishes a sleek, metal bar out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and holds it up in front of Clarke. Light emanates from the thing, illuminating Clarke's ghostly pale face.

"It's deteriorating too fast," Audrey says, reaching out and pressing the back of her hand to Clarke's forehead. "She doesn't have as much time left."

For the first time, the reality of the situation hits Bellamy with the force of a tidal wave, and he stumbles back.

"How much time?" he asks, his whole body shaking.

"Two days at most until she can't get any more oxygen. Probably one Maybe even less." Audrey sighs. "Clarke, I'm out of medicine—"

"Not yet," Clarke says softly, reaching under the hem of her shirt and bringing out a small syringe.

Bellamy feels simultaneously relieved and angry. "You didn't take it."

"I was saving it," Clarke says with a pained smile, then submerges into a coughing fit. "And I'll keep saving it."

"Clarke, take it  _now,"_ Kaia begs. "It's getting bad."

"I'll take it when I need to," Clarke breathes, spitting black blood onto the floor. 

"When you need to?" Bellamy asks in disbelief. "Clarke..."

"I'm going to die in two days," Clarke whispers, looking up at him. 

"You won't," Bellamy says. "We'll find a way. We always have."

"Not this time," Clarke replies. "It's too late."

"It's not," Kaia cuts in, who has been staring at the black blood since Clarke spat it out.

"What?" Clarke asks weakly.

"A Commander of the Skies," Kaia breathes, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a familiar object.

Clarke recoils from it, her breathing becoming alarmingly fast. "Where did you get that?"

Kaia kneels and dips a finger in Clarke's blood. "There was always a part of the Resistance that believed in Becca Pramheda's legacy. Everyone, good and bad alike told us there was no such thing as darkblood and Commanders."

She looks up into Bellamy's eyes, then Clarke's. "I knew they lied. I knew. And from our people, the other branch of the Resistance, our people in the higher ranks there came a message. Word of someone with blood darker than the night."

Clarke closes her eyes.

"The Order of Pramheda has a commander, but her blood is as red as mine," Kaia says. "We'd never really see someone as the commander, unless they had your blood, Clarke."

"No," Bellamy breathes.

"Pramheda's chip," Kaia says, holding up another copy of the Flame. "I stole it from Heda's quarters. It'll sustain your body. Keep you alive long enough to find a solution."

"I'm not taking that," Clarke spits. "I won't—"

Kaia leans closer to her, taking her hand. "Don't you want to live?"

"Not like that," Clarke says. "Please."

Clarke adds the last word with broken desperation.

Kaia leans away, taking something else out of her pocket, the forehead piece of the Commander, and presses it to Clarke's head. 

"Even so," Kaia begins. "You are the true Heda now."

* * *

Their meeting is interrupted by a guard, who regards them all with cold rage. "Get out," he snarls. "Clarke Griffin is being moved."

"Moved where?" Kaia snaps.

"Questioning under the queen's authority," the guard says with an ugly sneer. "Ice ward will have to wait."

"No—" everyone starts, but Bellamy, Audrey, and Kaia and forcefully pulled away from Clarke by three other guards, and the first man goes and drags Clarke forcefully to her feet, handcuffing her.

"Go," the main guard says to everyone.

"Heda," Kaia says softly.

"Bellamy!" Clarke calls, her voice rough.

The guard holding Bellamy pauses.

"I love you," Clarke says steadily, looking into his eyes. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"This isn't over," Bellamy says.

"Not for you," Clarke murmurs, and Bellamy is taken from her.

"Now, Mallory!" Kaia screams, and suddenly one of the other guards hits the guy holding Clarke, sending him toppling to the ground. Soon, three guards are down, and the woman named Mallory tosses her backpack to Kaia. 

"Got something for the girl," Mallory says, and Kaia opens the bag to pull out black clothing, the same clothes worn in Resistance training.

Bellamy swallows, remembering his dream, frighteningly vividly.

"Put it on," Audrey says when Kaia tosses it to Clarke, who looks down at her handcuffed hands. "We don't have much time before my sister realizes what's going on."

"I'll help," Bellamy says, bending and picking up a key from the main guard's pocket, and using it to unlock Clarke's handcuffs. Clarke wriggles out of her shirt and into the gear, and when she's done, she collapses against Bellamy.

"Bell," Clarke whispers. "She's coming."

Bellamy glares at the Commander forehead piece. "We'll be ready."

Clarke bends and picks up the syringe of Audrey's medicine and tucks it into her sleeve. "Give me a weapon."

"Are you kidding?" Kaia snaps. "You're too weak to fight."

"Why don't you come here and find out?" Clarke says with a shaky laugh. "Anyone got a gun?"

Audrey pulls one out of one of the unconscious guard's holsters and tosses it to Clarke. Kaia and Bellamy stare at her.

"What?" Audrey asks. "I trust her."

All the lights in the room abruptly go out, and a small, horrible red light starts flashing in the corner as deafening alarms start to go off. Bellamy looks down and see's Clarke's hand pulsing, matching her headache.

"It's gonna be okay," Bellamy says, touching her hand.

"You better hope so," Clarke says, walking slowly out of the cell with her gun at the ready.

* * *

They probably make their way through at least ten floors of the palace, searching for an exit that isn't blocked by guards.

And they find one—a small door in the farthest wing from the city.

"Go with Kaia," Bellamy says, pushing Clarke towards the door. "Audrey and I will find another way out."

"Bellamy," Clarke says helplessly, pulling his face close and kissing every square inch of it except his lips. Kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his forehead, his eyelids when his eyes shutter closed. 

"Go," he says.

"No," another voice snarls, and Bellamy turns to see Gemma standing at the end of the hallway.

The next thing he experiences is the sensation of falling—because he is. 

His eyes roll back into his head, the world going blurry, and he can just barely feel his body hit the floor.

 _Clarke,_ he thinks, all of his senses slowly eluding him until

there is just

an abundance

of

absolutely

nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i'm so sorry this chapter is short and sucky. I'm kind of emotional rn. Promise content will be much better next chapter


	38. You'll Tell Anyone Who'll Listen But You Feel Ignored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy must try his best to save Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey. I'm tired.

He comes to in a dim room, hands bound to a table with spotless silver chains.

Suddenly, the light emanating from the ceiling turns alarmingly bright. Bellamy squints and starts to count in his head.

After eleven seconds, a palm connects with his face, a sound like a gunshot piercing his ears.

"Open your eyes," Gemmaline Kal taunts, and she hits him again, hard enough to have his head be turned sharply to the side. This time, Bellamy can feel the cool metal of a ring on one of her fingers.

So he opens his eyes, and stares deeply into the queen's.

"Clarke," Bellamy says softly.

Gemma punches him, her ring cutting his cheek open. A sharp, shallow cut, but stinging nonetheless.

"Did you really think I wouldn't know you were lying to me?" Gemma asks quietly.

Bellamy glares at her, blood trickling down the side of his face. "Where's Clarke?" he asks.

She hits him again. Bellamy tastes blood in his mouth.

"Do you have any idea what I did to make sure people like you didn't mess it all up?" the queen says, leaning close to him, caressing his face like a lover would. 

"You bombed a whole city," Bellamy mumbles, his head dropping to the side.

"A good leader always knows when to make the hard choices," Gemma breathes.

"But were all those choices hard?" Bellamy asks quietly, memories of Resistance briefings he never cared for but always listened to rising to the top of his mind.

Gemma opens her mouth to answer, but Bellamy beats her to it. 

"Your mother," he whispers. "Do you remember her?"

Gemma gives him an oddly panicked look.

"She died when you were young," Bellamy says softly. "Mysterious circumstances. But it was you, wasn't it?"

"My mother was... unfit to rule," Gemma replies delicately.

"The things you've done for your people," Bellamy scoffs, his blood curving under his jaw and running down his neck. "Your sister spent five years in the southern continent for her own health, but you sent her away, didn't you?"

"Audrey does what she wants," the queen snarls, looking more and more annoyed with Bellamy's questioning.

"But so do you," he pushes. "The kill order you placed when your last head of the queen's guard went missing. The bombing of Ocean Sector. The death of your mother. Your sister leaving. So many strange things, Gemma. With unexplainable causes. But the cause is you, isn't it?"

Gemma seizes a fistful of Bellamy's hair and tugs his head back so she can look him in the eyes. 

"If you had to lead," she breathes. "If the lives of hundreds rested in your hands, you'd know that sometimes you have to make hard choices."

"But the lives of hundreds  _have_ rested in my hands," Bellamy mumbles. "I committed genocide. I killed, and I killed."

Gemma steps back, releasing his hair.

"But the difference between you and me," he continues, "is that I didn't do it for myself."

She smiles this time. tapping the bridge of Bellamy's nose. "You're an idiot for believing that the people who don't seek power will go anywhere in the world."

He just scowls at her.

"Where's Clarke?" he asks.

"She'll be dealt with," Gemma says sweetly, pulling a syringe with a long needle out of her pocket. "Right now, actually."

"Gemma," Bellamy breathes.

"Even after all you've done, I want you to be at peace, Bellamy," she says softly, cupping his face. "I want you to be someplace better. For now. And when I'm through with Clarke, you'll wake up and have nothing to worry about."

"No," he chokes out, starting to struggle against her. "Please. Gemma!  _Please!"_

"Hey, hey it's okay," she assures him, holding his neck steady. "It's gonna be okay. I promise. You're gonna be okay."

He feels something sharp, the world going dull and silent.

"Please," he says one last time, drifting away to the sensation of the queen's lips touching his forehead.

* * *

"if I'm on that list, you're on that list," he says.

"Bellamy, I can't," Clarke replies, choking on her tears.

He bends down and he kisses her then, trying to make her understand how much he needs her to live, how much he needs her.

But—it doesn't seem right.

He can feel Clarke's cheek beneath his hands, her fingers hooked into his belt loops. But not her lips. Not her kiss.

Bellamy leans back, confused.

"Bellamy—?" Clarke says, her voice low.

"Yeah?"

Clarke fists her hand into the collar of his shirt and pulls him close, but lets Bellamy take control of the kiss, sighing against his mouth when he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips. Even though he can't feel the kiss, he shudders at the sensation of her hands running through his curls.

"Clarke," he chokes out, pulling away just a centimeter.

One kiss. Then another, and another. 

He wounds the golden curls around his fingers, kissing her again and again.

"Bellamy," Clarke says against his lips.

"Whatever it is, it can wait," he breathes.

"No."

Bellamy pulls away, looking deeply into Clarke's golden eyes.

_Golden?_

"Wake up," Clarke says vehemently, and so he does.

* * *

In medical, in Arkadia. 

"Fucking idiot," Raven snarls. He hears something metal hit a table. "Getting himself injured a month before the world ends?"

"Leave it to me," he hears Clarke say, before he feels the back of her hand against his forehead. "He'll live. For now."

"Yeah, 'cause if you don't kill him, Griffin, I'll do it myself."

"Don't worry," Clarke says softly, brushing curls away from his forehead. Bellamy hears a door close, and then he opens his eyes. 

"Clarke," he gasps. "Oh, my god. Clarke—"

"Breathe, Bellamy," Clarke commands gently, so at ease, so unlike the Clarke she is now.

"No, I need to—" He sits bolt upright, his head colliding painfully with Clarke's. "Ow."

"Take it easy!" Clarke says indignantly, pushing him back down onto the bed. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Hit me," he blurts.

"Tempting, but why?" Clarke asks.

"I need to wake up!" he gasps, trying to sit up despite Clarke's hands on his chest.

"You're awake, Bellamy," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Look at me. You might have a concussion—"

"I don't!" he says. "I don't. Trust me."

"I'm getting Jackson," Clarke mutters.

And then Bellamy does the stupidest thing imaginable—he tugs her down and kisses her.

"Bellamy, mm—!" Her words get muffled by his lips.

When he opens his eyes, he's still there.

"What. The. Hell," Clarke breathes, no longer kissing him but her lips still pressed against his.

"Damn it," Bellamy says, his forehead coming to rest against Clarke's.

"What's going on, Bellamy?" she asks softly.

"I just—"

He searches her eyes, which are beautiful and blue.

"Really wanted to kiss you," he mumbles. "That's all."

"No," she snarls suddenly, grabbing his face. Her irises morph into a glittering gold yet again. "You can't forget her."

"Who?"

"Me," Clarke says. "The queen will kill me."

"There's nothing I can do," Bellamy whispers.

"You'll never see me again."

This awakens something deep in his gut, a want, a need, a purpose.

"Clarke," he says, the clearest thought in his mind, lightning streaking across a dark sky, stars exploding to life.

"Yes," she says, her eyes shining brighter than ever, "yes."

"I have to save her," Bellamy declares, and with those words,the lights shine a little brighter, Clarke's face a little clearer. 

_Clarke._

One word, making his heart beat faster, because he is  _alive._

_Clarke._

There is something he must do.

He has to wake up.

_Clarke._

"I'm chained to the table," he says to her. "I can't get out."

Clarke brushes a finger gently along the line of his jaw. "Handcuffs?"

He nods.

"They're not like ours, though, aren't they?" she asks gently. "There's a small control panel with the bio-lock."

"I have to break it," Bellamy realizes. "But—what if breaking the panel locks it forever?"

"It won't," Clarke implores. "Trust me."

He leans forward to kiss her again. He can't really feel her lips against his, but he feels like he should do it anyway.

Even the feeling of her fingers on his face starts to melt away, and Bellamy starts to feel cool metal bound around his wrists.

_Clarke._

"Save her, Bell," Clarke says, her voice becoming quiet and faded, taking on a tinny quality as if he's hearing it through a radio.

_Clarke._

* * *

His eyes snap open. 

In the distance, he hears a familiar, feminine scream, and he fights against the urge to let loose a scream of his own when he realizes that it's Clarke.

Sighing slightly to himself, Bellamy runs his thumb along the chains and then the metal bands around his wrists, finding a cool, flat surface.

How the hell is he gonna break it?

He tries pressing his fingernails into it, but that just doesn't seem to work.

_Come on, Bellamy. You're smarter than that._

Bellamy finds it in himself to smile a little, at how that voice in his head is Clarke's.

He pulls his hands as far away from the table as he can, and then slams them against the edge with all the force he can muster.

The force sends a jolt through his bones, but when he turns his wrists again, he sees shattered screens where the control panels were.

Sliding his thumbs along the seams of the cuffs, he prays.

And then he slams the cuffs against the table again, and they slide off.

He stumbles away from the table, and towards the door.

_(please let it be unlocked)_

To his immense surprise, it is, and it sends a chill down his back. 

How desperate would Gemma be to do what she planned to leave the door open?

Clarke screams again, and Bellamy can make out words this time.

_I won't._

She won't what?

"Xander?"

He whirls around to glare into Gemma's dark eyes.

Gemma barrels into him and crashes her lips onto his, and Bellamy is too stunned to do anything.

"Xander," Gemma repeats. "I knew you'd come back."

He gasps, and the whole world goes black.

* * *

He's sure he's awake for real now.

_You beat it. You beat the serum._

And he wastes no time breaking the cuffs and scrambling out of the room.

_"No! I won't!"_

"Clarke," he breathes.

It's not hard to find where she is—despite the long corridor of identical doors, he can follow the source of the screaming, Gemma's voice and Clarke's voice blending together.

But this door is locked, and Bellamy throws himself against it.

"Let me in, Gemma!" he screams. "I swear to  _god_ if you touch Clarke—"

There's a horrible banging noise, and Clarke screams again.

 _"GEMMA!"_ he roars. "Let me in!"

The door is shoved open, and Gemma drags Bellamy in by the neck of his shirt.

"I swear I didn't want this to happen," Gemma says, pulling him close. "I swear." He tries to pull away from her, but he feels like his bones have been replaced with lead.

The razor sharp edge of a knife is pressed to his throat, and Clarke screams again, this time in fear rather than pain.  _"No!_ Gemma, please, let him go, kill me—"

"No," the queen snarls, digging the knife deeper into Bellamy's throat. "I can't let him do this again."

"Kill me," Clarke begs. "Not him!"

"I won't kill you," Gemma says. "I have better things to do."

"I'll tell you anything you need to know then!" Clarke bursts out, slamming her palms against the table. "Don't hurt him."

Gemma withdraws the knife from his throat, but a needle is slammed into his neck.

"No!" Clarke chokes out.

"Are you working with Eligius?" Gemma asks, still holding onto Bellamy, his consciousness rapidly fading.

"Don't," Bellamy says, collapsing against the queen. "You wouldn't."

"I know," Clarke says gently. "I wouldn't."

"I know, too," Gemma says, then presses her lips to Bellamy's ear. "I hope you can live with yourself, Bellamy."

His eyes flutter closed.

"And I guess I will have to kill you, Clarke," Gemma declares, letting Bellamy fall to the ground.

And Bellamy?

Well, he's too far gone to do anything about it.

And he wonders whether any of this is even real at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope it doesn't suck! comments and kudos are welcome!!


	39. Nothing's Really Making Any Sense At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is left to try and figure out what reality is and isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before y'all kill me there is a mention of bellamy's age and here's a reminder that i changed it for this fic

Bellamy can't breathe.

"Bellamy?"

His helmet is pried away from his face and he  _inhales,_ breathing in the sweet, sweet air. Air he breathed for twenty years of his life, but air all the same.

His vision, however blurry, is obscured by a blonde brain tumbling down and hitting him in the nose. "Oh, sorry," the owner of the braid says.

"You're good," he mumbles, still breathing deeply, all his senses starting to function again.

It's at this moment that his brain starts to recall crucial pieces of information—

  1. He's on the Ark.
  2. He's alive.
  3. Earth is—not.
  4. Clarke Griffin—



Bellamy's mouth splits into a wide grin.

Clarke Griffin is alive and smiling, and her braid is really tickling the tip of his nose.

For one odd second, he has the sensation of handcuffs around his wrists, a horrendous panic constricting his airway and the thought that Clarke is gonna die and he can't save her—

"You okay?" Clarke wheezes, touching his shoulder.

"Oxygen deprivation," he mumbles. "Get out of the way, Princess, let me breathe."

Clarke laughs loudly at this before crawling away from him.

"Son of a  _bitch!"_ Murphy yells with a great hoot of laughter. "We did it!"

"Fuck Earth," Raven groans, her face pressed against the cool metal floor.

"Fuck Earth," Clarke agrees, her shoulder falling onto Bellamy's arm as she collapses.

"This color sucks!" Emori calls from a few feet away. "So can we all just get up and change, at least?"

"Algae," Monty says wistfully.

"Shut up, Monty," Harper mutters affectionately, nudging him with her knee.

Bellamy closes his eyes and remembers standing by the launch doors, the way his heart seemed to burst with relief when he saw Clarke sprinting towards him as best as she could in her radiation suit. Her gloved fingers brushing his as she hurriedly strapped herself into the rocket and then helped Bellamy do the same.

"Clarke," Bellamy murmurs.

"Yeah?" she asks, raising herself off the floor with some difficulty.

He pulls her into a tight hug.

* * *

> **60**

It's not ideal, but Bellamy can't bear to think of an alternative.

One night, he sneaks out of his room to go over to a viewing window that he's claimed as his own, only a little surprised to see Clarke sitting by it with her knees pulled up to her chest, her face against the glass.

"Hey," he says gruffly, crouching to sit facing her, also pressing his cheek to the window.

"It used to be so beautiful," Clarke mumbles, looking out at the inferno raging below. "Blue and green and white. I drew it all the time on the floors of my cell, but I never had colors."

"But then we did have them," Bellamy continues wistfully. "It was green everywhere. And brown and white and blue."

Clarke stretches a leg out, her toes nudging his. Bellamy lets out an involuntary sound somewhere between a giggle and a snort—he's always been ticklish in his toes. This makes Clarke raise her eyebrows, her eyes widening in realization. "Holy  _shit,_ Bellamy."

"Don't you dare," he says in a whisper.

She scrambles to grab his toes, but Bellamy stands up at the speed of light and steps away. Clarke stands, too, and surveys him with a grin.

"I don't like that look," Bellamy declares.

And suddenly her small body is colliding with his, her fingers drumming his sides, and his neck. He's not really affected by her trying to tickle his neck, but when she touches his sides it sends him into fits of laughter that he's sure is going to wake up the whole ship.

"Toes, neck," Clarke says, her voice one of clinical interest despite the shit-eating grin on her face. She tickles him relentlessly, and Bellamy is leaning heavily on her, tears streaming down his cheeks. He doesn't even really have the strength to fight back at this point. "Where else?" Clarke pauses in her movements to loop her arms around his neck, and he sighs, his heart rate speeding up at their proximity.

He realizes it just a minute too late.

Clarke's fingers are deceptively easy to ignore at first, but then she's tickling the area behind his ear, and he loses it again, smiling fully for the first time since the dropship.

* * *

"Now, what the holy fuck were you guys doing last night?" Murphy asks groggily, staring sadly at the bowl of algae.

"Each other?" Raven supplies. Clarke pulls her ear. "Ow!"

"Well, Bellamy?" Emori presses, leaning up and kicking a foot up onto the table. Echo shoves it off.

"It's an insult to my dignity to tell you," Bellamy says primly. "Echo, pass me a spoon."

Echo raises an eyebrow at being addressed by Bellamy, but she passes him a spoon anyway.

"As in, 'men don't kiss and tell' or 'Clarke beat me in a contest to see who can jump the highest on the bed?'" Harper inquires, crossing her arms.

"The beds aren't even remotely bouncy, though," Raven states with a smirk. "Which means it had to be the other thing."

"Hey, he didn't say it w—" Clarke starts, the tips of her ears going red. Bellamy finds it adorable.

"The more you fight, the more you confirm it," Monty mutters sagely, consuming the algae with a content smile.

Clarke smiles sheepishly into her bowl of algae. "Maybe I should tell them."

He swallows. "You wouldn't dare."

Echo raises her eyebrows and leans forward, placing her elbows on the table. Raven pauses in her slow sipping of the algae, Emori's eyebrows rise towards her forehead, Murphy smiles knowingly, and Monty—well, he keeps eating.

"Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, you wouldn't," Bellamy says, standing up.

"He's ticklish  _everywhere,_ " she declares.

Murphy's head slowly swivels towards Bellamy, eyeing him like a wolf would look at a flock of sheep.

"Fuck you, Clarke," he says weakly, and bolts out of the room when Murphy pounces at him.

"Do it yourself!" he hears someone call, their voice echoing through the halls.

* * *

>   **84**

"How's the radio coming along?" Clarke asks, wiping her face with a towel.

"Still a pile of shit," Raven says cheerfully. "How are Clarke's fighting skills?"

"Still a pile of shit," Bellamy replies.

"Says the one on the floor!" Clarke says indignantly.

"I let you win," he stubbornly insists.

"Trust me, I was watching that whole fight, and you did not let her win. She won on her own," Echo says with disinterest, and Bellamy still bites back the ingrained urge to scream at her. For the sake of everyone on the Ring, he's outwardly declared his forgiveness for her, but he's still harboring a grudge.

"Bell," Clarke says gently, holding out a hand and helping him up. Bellamy raises his eyebrows at the gesture, and Clarke turns even redder than she was after the sparring session. "Leave it," she mutters.

Her hands around his wrists give him that same sensation he felt when they made it to the Ring, the handcuffs, the panic.

"Okay," he concedes. "But only for you."

* * *

>   **100**

"It's been a hundred days," Clarke says, her cheek resting on his chest.  She's been sleeping in his room for a month and a half now, easier for both of them, with all the nightmares that they have. 

According to the clock in his room, it's 11:54 at night.

"One hundred," Bellamy murmurs, burying his face in her hair. It's small moments like these where he feels so at peace that it almost hurts. When they reached the Ring, the amount of touching between him and Clarke increased tenfold. They'd always been tactile with each other, but this was different.

A line that he was glad he finally crossed. Embracing her from behind when Clarke gets the algae in bowls for everyone in the kitchen, rubbing his thumb along the corner of her mouth whenever there was some food there. 

_(alright, there wasn't always food there)_

Clarke hums and tosses a leg over his body and curls her fingers, gathering a fistful of his thin t-shirt.

"I'm so tired," she breathes.

"So let's sleep," Bellamy says.

"Not that tired. I mean, that tired as well, but that's not the tired I was talking about. You know?"

He does know.

* * *

>   **137**

Clarke gets sick, and Bellamy will claim until the end of his days that it's one of the scariest feelings ever, watching her lie in bed, her face devoid of its usual color.

He presses the back of his hand to her hot forehead. 

She wakes at his touch, her blue eyes feverishly bright.

"Hey," she says.

"You're gonna be okay," he assures her.

"I know. It'll happen to you. The sickness seems to be linked to algae consumption."

"It doesn't look fun," Bellamy says softly.

"Doesn't feel fun, either," she replies. "But my fever will go down soon."

"I'm sorry," Monty says walking into the room.

"For the forty-seventh time, it's  _okay,"_ Clarke says, rolling her eyes, but she smiles at Monty all the same.

* * *

>   **154**

Clarke ruffles his hair affectionately. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Bellamy groans. "How's Echo?" Despite his grudge against her, he's come to accept her. A slow and painful process, but it's happening.

"Echo's immune system is better than yours, so she's not throwing up anymore," Clarke says softly, stroking his face.

He says, "Shut up." 

* * *

>   **365**

"What's wrong?" Clarke asks.

"We've been up here a whole year, Clarke. That's longer than we've been down there," he says, gesturing at the barren planet, a spot of green among it all. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Her eyes darken. "Every day."

He sighs, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I wish we could talk to them," he murmurs, looking at the sandy planet, wondering if he's looking at the ruins of Polis right now.

"Octavia will be okay," Clarke says, reaching up and placing her hand on top of his.

"So will your mother," Bellamy assures her. "They're safe down there."

* * *

>   **387**

He sits bolt upright in bed.

Handcuffs. Clarke.

And a name.

_Gemma._

"Who's Gemma?" Clarke asks groggily, rolling over to face him.

"Huh?" Bellamy asks.

She reaches up to rub her eyes. "You were saying it in your sleep. Telling her not to do something."

"I don't know," Bellamy mutters, rubbing his temple. "Go back to sleep."

Clarke seems so tired that she doesn't even argue—just closes her eyes and lets her head fall back onto her pillow.

Bellamy can't seem to remember his dream, and he lies awake for what seems like hours trying to figure it out.

* * *

>   **401**

"Oh, go float yourself, Bellamy," Clarke spits venomously. 

Bellamy should really shut up, but he can't seem to. "It's not my fucking fault you always have to take the high and mighty road, always doing what's best for your  _people!"_

"Would you have liked it if I stayed?" she shouts.

Bellamy crosses his arms. "I never said that. I'm just saying, the bunker probably would've been in a better condition if you hadn't tried to make sure not a single Grounder was able to get in!"

 _"I'M SORRY YOUR SISTER CAN'T HANDLE LEADERSHIP, OKAY?!"_ Clarke snarls. 

 _"Don't you even dare—"_ Bellamy spits, remembering his sister's emotionless voice on the radio. It should've been a happy day—Raven got a radio working and was able to communicate with the bunker, but with everything Octavia was telling them about how things were turning out and the abrupt failure of the weak connection...

"I know you're incapable of blaming your sister for anything, but this is, for once,  _not my fault!"_ Clarke yells.

"It  _is_ your fault, Clarke!" Bellamy exclaims. "You've tried and tried to do the right thing, but you've only ever hurt people with those choices!"

Clarke stumbles back as if physically wounded, her eyes going unfocused with rage and sorrow—and here, Bellamy knows he has crossed the line.

Her hands curl into fists, as if she might punch him, but Murphy appears out of nowhere, putting his hands on Clarke's shoulders, and pulling him away.

"Shit, Clarke," Bellamy sputters. "I'm—"

"Sorry?" she asks, tears forming in her eyes. "You're not wrong."

Clarke wrenches her body out of Murphy's grasp and starts to walk away. 

"Nice fucking job, Blake," Murphy scowls, but moves to stand in front of Bellamy when he tries to go after her. "Don't."

"Get the hell out of my way, Murphy," Bellamy commands in a low growl.

"Hey!" Raven says, grabbing Bellamy's arm. "Let it go."

* * *

>   **403**

"Echo," he breathes.

"She doesn't want to talk to you," Echo sighs. "You really did it this time, Bellamy."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can't I even talk to her for a minute?"

"She moved back to her own room to get out of talking to you," Echo reasons. "I just think a minute's not a good idea."

He leans against the wall.

"Octavia  _will_ be okay. She is strong, Bellamy. She has the strongest will of anyone I know, except for maybe you. I'm glad she lived."

Bellamy looks up into Echo's intense hazel eyes.

"You tried to kill her."

"We were on opposite sides of war bigger than both of us," Echo says. "But if she's anything like you, I would've had nothing but respect for her."

"She's nothing like me anymore," Bellamy sighs, voicing for the first time his concerns on the woman Octavia has become. "I mean, she was never like me. When we first landed, she was better. Well, she was me, but better. And now—we're just... it's like we aren't even family anymore."

"War took too much from her," Echo says.

"It took too much from all of us, though," he implores. "Loved ones. Our hope, our faith, our  _humanity."_

She bites her lip. "Roan said something important to me once."

"What was it?" he asks.

"'As long as we breathe,'" she murmurs, "'not all humanity is lost.'" 

* * *

>   **405**

Clarke hasn't spoken to Bellamy in almost four days.

"Bellamy," Harper says, sitting down across from him at the table, "I can't keep reminding you to eat all the time."

"I know," he says, folding his arms on the table and putting his head down. "Is she eating?"

"Monty brings her food in her room," Harper sighs. "She's eating more than you for sure."

Bellamy crosses his arms and sighs. "I should never have said anything."

"It's okay to express how you feel, but I guess you also need to understand how far you can go before it's  _too_ far," she says. "Clarke's not perfect. Not a single soul on this ship disagrees. But I feel like, compared to the rest of us, you and her went through a lot more. Having the most responsibility and all."

"She left me over and over," Bellamy mumbles. "I mean, I'm not even mad about that."

"Do you even know what you're mad about?" Harper asks.

He sighs. "Not really."

"You're gonna have to talk to her eventually, though," she declares. "After all, we all live in the same tin can."

"You need to blow off some steam," Echo supplies, walking into the room. "Come spar me."

* * *

Well, she's  _good._

Echo slams him onto the floor for the fourth time, and this time lowers herself to sit on top of him so Bellamy can't get up again.

"You're not one for giving up, are you?" she asks.

"I wouldn't say so," Bellamy says. It's not ideal, the fact that Echo can kick his ass, but he's feeling better after having punched her a few times. She leans forward, her ponytail swinging over her shoulder and tickling Bellamy's bare chest. He's not sure when they became so close or how they ended up in such a compromising position—his brain is rapidly shutting down.

"Bellamy?" Echo asks.

And then he does the last thing either of them expected—he lifts his head and kisses her hard.

Within a few seconds, he's able to switch their positions, kissing her until both of them are rendered incapable of words.

"We should not do this," Echo says, as they both get to their feet, arms still wrapped around each other. Bellamy pushes her into the wall, grabbing the backs of her thighs and lifting her legs up, wrapping them around his waist.

"I know we shouldn't," he mumbles.

"I feel like we're doing this anyway," Echo says, dragging him towards her room.

"Guess so."

* * *

>   **412**

Clarke speaks to him only when it's necessary. He's slept with Echo twice now, and they're the only two people who know.

Bellamy figures he should tell someone. It's the right thing to do, right?

* * *

>   **426**

It happens again when he and Echo are lying together in the aftermath, and this time, he sees more.

_(Clarke)_

_(handcuffs)_

_(Gemma—a dark haired girl with delicately curved eyes, eyes like his)_

_(Audrey—the sister)_

_(Clarke's eyes)_

_(gold)_

Echo turns to lie on her side, facing him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Bellamy murmurs.

She nods slightly, then drops her head onto the pillow. The way they're lying together is too intimate for what they are now—Bellamy's arm is wrapped loosely around her waist, fingers tracing unseen patterns on the skin of her back.

"Bellamy?" she asks.

"Mm?"

"What is this?" Echo asks. Bellamy raises his eyebrows and asks, "What do you mean?"

"What are we really doing?" she murmurs, raising herself up on an elbow. "I know this is only physical, but—"

"It doesn't feel that way?" Bellamy finishes. "Yeah, I know."

They lie in silence for a while.

"Is it ever not going to be? Physical, I mean."

He thinks of Clarke's head on his chest, the rage in her eyes when she looked at him.

As if reading his mind, Echo sighs and says, "Clarke." Just one word, explaining everything.

"I don't know," Bellamy says. "Clarke and I have been through too much to be with each other."

"I would assume that's a solid reason for you guys to be together, though," Echo says. "You two have history. An understanding of each other. You love her."

Bellamy swallows. "Not in that way. She's my best friend but I don't love her like that."

Echo sighs. "How long will you keep lying to yourself, Bellamy?"

"I'm not—I just can't love her."

"I don't think we should do this anymore," Echo says, sitting up, clutching the sheets to her chest.

"Echo, wait. I wanna try this. I wanna do this with you. Okay? Have a relationship. Have it be more than physical. That's what I want."

"You want her," Echo counters, but she doesn't sound angry. Just knowing. "Admit it, Bellamy. I'd only ever be a stand-in."

Bellamy can't really think of anything to say.

"Can we still sleep together?" Bellamy mutters.

Echo rolls her eyes and kisses his cheek. "No, Bellamy. But I feel like you should start with telling Clarke that you did in the first place."

* * *

>   **432**

In all honesty, Clarke's not the first person he tells.

He manages to keep quiet for almost six days, so he's not a  _total_ failure.

"Hey, Raven," he hisses in the halls, keeping an eye out for a certain blonde. "I have to talk to you about something."

Raven rolls her eyes as if she'd rather be doing literally  _anything_ other than talking to him, but she comes over anyway.

"Okay. What's going on?"

Bellamy sighs. "I think you'd better sit down for this."

* * *

Luckily, they're the only ones at the main table, and Bellamy periodically checks for other people walking in.

"Bellamy, just tell me!" Raven says, exasperated.

"Okay, okay, keep your voice down! And promise you won't freak out." he hisses.

"Man, whatever," she mutters.

"I..."

Raven raises an eyebrow, leaning forward.

"I slept with Echo. Several times."

There's a long silence, and then—

"Are you  _shitting_ me, Bellamy Blake?" Raven yells, standing up so fast her chair topples over. "Are you messing with me?"

"I told you to keep your voice down!" Bellamy says weakly.

"What the  _hell_ is going on—?" Clarke Griffin says, walking into the room. "I—oh."

Raven looks from him to her, and Bellamy sits up, knowing what she's going to do.

"You wanna tell her or should I?" Raven asks in a whisper.

"Tell me what?" Clarke asks. Curse her bat-like hearing.

"Tell you that—" Raven starts.

"That I found a sketchbook for you," Bellamy interrupts, cutting smoothly across Raven's tirade.

"I can't imagine why Raven would be yelling about that," Clarke mutters dryly.

Raven just scowls at him. 

* * *

> **440**

Clarke takes the news stoically enough.

"I'm sorry," Bellamy says, hanging his head. "For everything."

"It's okay," Clarke sighs. "I'm sorry I said bad stuff about your sister."

Bellamy waves a hand. "It was true."

She bites her lip, looking at Bellamy with concern.

"Can you believe we've been in a fight for thirty-nine days?" he asks suddenly.

"You counted?" Clarke asks in surprise.

"Yeah," he sheepishly admits.

"It sucked," she murmurs.

"Every single day."

Clarke raises an eyebrow. "Not every single night, apparently."

"Clarke—"

"I'm kidding," she says with a small laugh. "It's none of my business."

"Yeah, don't be a busybody," he huffs, mirroring her laugh. Suddenly, his hands fly to his head, his vision overflowing with images.

"Hey, what is it?" he hears Clarke ask, as if from the other end of a very long tunnel.

_(Clarke is in trouble)_

_(Gemma)_

_(trouble)_

_(gold)_

_(handcuffs)_

_(break the panel break the panel break the panel)_

_(Clarke is going to die)_

_(nightblood)_

_(save her)_

_(get her back to Eligius and save her)_

_(there has to be a way)_

_(break the panel)_

_(the serum)_

_(beat the serum)_

_(Clarke is in trouble)_

_(queen)_

_(gold)_

_(Clarke!)_

* * *

He finishes listing all those feverish thoughts, his head still swimming.

Clarke knits her eyebrows together, deep in thought. "It doesn't really make sense."

"No, it doesn't," he agrees shakily. They're sitting by their viewing window, staring at Earth. This time side by side instead of across from each other. Clarke sighs and drops her head onto his shoulder.

"Bellamy," she asks softly. "What if none of this is real?"

"Don't be stupid," Bellamy says firmly. "Of course this is real." Then, with a little uncertainty; "It has to be."

"Bellamy," she continues gently. "You have to wake up."

He turns his head to look at her, holding her gaze until the world disappears.

* * *

And Bellamy's eyes, they open.

And he knows in heart that this is real.

It is real.

And he knows what he must do.

 

 


	40. Let's Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single choice has Clarke and Bellamy on opposite sides of a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence in this chapter in case that's a problem for anyone. lotsa blood i guess?

He takes a deep breath, mind reeling with a year's worth of memories. That, and more.

Bellamy wastes no time trying to break the panel on the handcuffs and just slams it against the edge of the table, smiling slightly to himself when the cuffs unlock and slide off his wrists.

He stands a little unsteadily, still remembering the Ring.

_(she made it)_

The door is locked, but Bellamy doesn't have to wait long _—_ the door is kicked open, and Audrey stands on the other side.

"She gave you the serum, didn't she?" Audrey asks, touching the area beneath Bellamy's eyes.

"Yeah," Bellamy says.

"When did she come to wake you, then?" she continues.

Bellamy shakes his head. "She didn't."

Audrey frowns. "No way. The effects of the serum don't just  _wear off."_

He huffs. "They did for me. We have to find Clarke and get her to Eligius  _now."_

"Eligius?" Audrey asks, her eyes widening. "Why there _?"_

"They'll know how to cure her," Bellamy says fervently, pushing past Audrey.

"Bellamy _—_ " Audrey says softly. 

He whirls around. "Do you know where she is?"

Bellamy sees her throat bob as she swallows. "She's not here, Bellamy."

"How long was I asleep?" he asks.

"Two hours," Audrey mumbles.

"Audrey, where the hell is she?" Bellamy asks shakily. "We have to help her!"

"We can't help her."

He can hear a commotion outside, and Bellamy runs towards it, knowing that Clarke will be there.

Knowing that she has to be there.

* * *

He finds her in the centermost room of the palace itself, Gemma standing there and facing Clarke.

"What the hell is happening?" Bellamy asks.

Audrey opens her mouth to answer, but then she shakes her head. "No. It can't be."

"Kill her," Gemma says, her voice echoing through the whole room.

"See,  _this_ is exactly why you hate me so much, isn't it?" Clarke asks, her voice surprisingly strong despite her condition. "Because you  _just_ don't know what to do with me."

"Shut it," Gemma snarls, stalking towards the practical metal chair at the end of the hall. 

"Kill me yourself, then!" Clarke shouts. "I'm dying, anyway. Do me a favor."

Gemma turns around. Bellamy notices that she's wearing a different crown. Beautiful and gold with lethally sharp points, a crown designed not for practicality, but to send a message. To show everywhere what place she's in, and what place they're in.

He recognizes that crown.

And suddenly, she's walking, snatching a gun from a guard's hands and pressing it against Clarke's temple, and Bellamy lets out a shout.

Audrey reaches out and clamps a hand over his mouth. "Bellamy, shut up!"

"No, no, no, no, we have to help her, we have to—" he says, his voice muffled.

"Do it, Gemma," Clarke says, loudly, but not as a yell. "Show your people how brave you are."

Clarke starts walking forward, forcing Gemma to walk back.

"No," Audrey breathes in Bellamy's ear.

There's a strange humming noise that suddenly pierces the air, and he watches a glowing blue light set into the floor in the shape of a circle ignite. A ring, encasing Clarke and Gemma.

A pearly, transparent dome rises from the light, like the walls in the Resistance training center.

"Audrey, what's happening?" he whispers.

"Old tradition," Audrey says, pressing her hands to her eyes. "Clarke's going to fight her for the crown."

* * *

Bellamy can tell by Clarke's expression that she has no idea what's happening, and her next words confirm as such.

"What is this?"

Gemma draws a short knife from her belt, then tosses the gun to the floor. "A challenge."

Clarke sets her jaw, her hands pulsing. "I didn't agree to any challenge."

The queen sighs. "I'll make it quick, Clarke. Think of it as an execution with style."

Clarke sinks to her knees, unable to support her weight any longer. "I have to fight you."

Gemma nods sadly, as if she pities Clarke. 

"Give me a weapon," Clarke says clearly. "Make it a fair fight."

Without warning, Gemma slashes the knife across Clarke's face, making her scream.

Clarke lies motionless on the ground, and for one horrible moment, Bellamy thinks she's dead.

But then she lifts her head, an entire side of her face coated in black blood. 

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," the queen says emotionlessly. "Get up."

Clarke spits out a wad of blood. "I thought you said it was going to be quick."

"I decided it's more fun this way," Gemma declares, kneeling and tilting Clarke's head up with the tip of her knife. "This symbol on your head. I've seen it before."

Somehow, Clarke jerks her chin away, and her eyes meet Bellamy's.

Blank horror and realization dawns in her eyes, and at that exact moment, Bellamy feels a horrible falling sensation, his senses going hazy.

Out of nowhere, Clarke pulls a syringe out of her shirt and plunges into her own neck.

_The medicine._

Gemma's expression falters. "What did you—"

Clarke surges forward and punches her in the face, but Gemma is almost, if not equally, as quick as Clarke, and her hand shoots up, slicing open the other half of Clarke's face.

It seems like Bellamy's snapping out of shock, all the suppressed emotions of the past few weeks exploding in his head. The urgency of Clarke's situation, the horror of watching all of this unravel hits him with the force of a tidal wave, and he wonders why he didn't feel this way before, why he couldn't understand that he needed to  _move,_ that he needed to  _do_ something  _right now._

Clarke is dying.

Clarke is dying.

Clarke is dying.

Eligius had been the answer floating hazily around his mind—

 _(_ _they'll help her they know what to do)_

They.

But what did  _he_ do?

_I thought it was going to be okay. I thought everything was going to be okay._

Safety.

She was there, in front of him. He could look into her eyes and know they were on the same side. And had they been through so much that he hadn't bothered to look farther than that?

Yes, he remembers the icy cold shock when he was told that Clarke was dying. Slowly, instead of being condemned to it

_(in a fire as the planet burned and burned)_

like one may have expected.

She was going to die, but he had time, didn't he? He tried to convince her to go back but he didn't force her, because he had time.

_He had time._

But he didn't.

Why wasn't he more scared then?

To him, perhaps, Clarke has become invincible. So how could a matter as mundane as  _blood_ take her away?

How?

Why isn't he doing something  _right now?_

It's not a show—

_Clarke is dying._

Something in Bellamy's head locks into place, and he steels himself, and he runs towards them.

"Bellamy, no—!" he hears Audrey yell from somewhere behind him, and he starts screaming when a plethora of guards grab him and shove him and pull him away from her. But this doesn't deter him—it only makes him angrier. He punches the first guard in the throat and kicks another in the chest, shoving away the barrels of guns with his forearm. He grabs a gun and slams it into someone's head, while wrapping a leg around another's knee and sending them to the ground.

He can vaguely hear Clarke occasionally screaming but he can't see what's happening—there are too many people in his way.

Someone hits Bellamy hard on the side of his head, and his vision blurs.

* * *

_"I never meant for you to get hurt," he says._

_Clarke glances down at the holes in her shirt, ringed with the faded red of her dried blood. "S'okay. You had to make it back to her."_

_Bellamy swallows. "I— **"**_

_"Clarke," she says. "You had to go back to her."_

_"You say that as if she isn't you."  
_

_"'Cuz she's not. Same face and the same body. But despite what you said," Clarke sighs. "She and I couldn't be more different."_

_He lowers his head._

_"She's the one for you, Bellamy," Clarke says. "I'm just the bodysnatcher."_

_He looks up, and he sees a faint smile on her lips. And she's right—it's a nice smile, but it's not truly Clarke's._

* * *

His vision clears, and he brings his leg up in a kick Clarke had taught him, earning a pained yell from a guard.

He wonders vaguely where Kaia is, where  _Audrey_ is, what she could be doing as the two battles rage.

There's a sudden uppercut appearing out of nowhere, making Bellamy taste blood in his mouth and making him go dizzy. 

Another punch, another kick, and there are too many people, too much blood in his mouth, but he won't stop.

He cannot

stop

fighting.

* * *

Gunshots.

Whoever fires them is an exceptionally good shot—bullets placed squarely in between all of the guards' eyebrows and missing Bellamy even though he ducked just a nanosecond too slowly after the shots began.

He turns, sees a lithe figure standing in the large doorway of the room, blonde hair pulled back and green fire raging in her eyes.

Kaia runs to Bellamy, grabbing his shoulders, then slowly turning her head to Clarke and Gemma. Clarke's backed up against the wall of the dome, and Gemma's face is splattered with black and red blood.

Bellamy runs towards her, but Kaia holds him back. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he snarls, straining against her surprisingly strong grip. Or maybe he's just weak after the beating he's just taken from fifteen people at the same time.

But Kaia doesn't answer—she stares transfixed at the queen.

And seemingly using the last of her strength, Clarke throws herself at Gemma. There's no grace to the movement, but suddenly, Clarke's grabbing her crown, accidentally cutting her own palm in the process. More guards and officials rush into the room, completely ignoring Kaia and Bellamy. 

In a whirl of glowing gold and blonde and black hair, Clarke shoves two of the points deep into Gemma's stomach.

The queen coughs and splutters, stumbling away from her. And all the others in the room, who'd just shown up, they do nothing to help their queen.

 _Old tradition,_ Audrey had said.

Clarke towers over Gemma, who still makes futile attempts to rise. This time, Clarke slides the point of the crown into the side of her neck, killing her the way she killed Atom.

And then she tosses the crown away and collapses a few feet away from Gemma's body, her blonde hair lying around her face like a halo.

* * *

She raises the upper half of her body after a minute, after the walls have sunk back into the floor and the lights have dimmed to nonexistence. Clarke's face is pale with fear and dread, her disheveled blonde hair falling over one eye. She's still lying on the ground, her elbow pressing into the hard floor.

Her blood is darker than the night, trickling from her nose and the side of her face.

An official steps forward and picks up the crown, not seeming to mind the blood. Bellamy steps closer to them, watching. The woman who holds the crown is trembling, her hands shaking as she sets the crown on Clarke's head.

The red blood dripping from the crown splatters onto her face and mixes with her own.

Clarke closes her eyes and bites her lip so hard that it starts to bleed, allowing herself just one moment, just one.

There is blood everywhere, staining her face and the crown. 

The symbol of the Heda is still there, pressed between Clarke's eyebrows, somehow untouched by the blood.

And then she opens her eyes, and she rises.

Bellamy feels insistent tugging on his clothes, and then Kaia yanks him away from the small crowd.

"Clarke," he says stupidly. "We need to—"

"Bellamy, we can't be here anymore!" Kaia half wails, half whispers.

"Kaia, let go," he says, he pleads.

"We're going to die if we stay!" Kaia snaps, dragging him away. Then after a moment, she says, "We'll come back."

This gives Bellamy pause—not because he believes her, but he can't really seem to entirely comprehend her statement. Either way, it makes it that much easier for Kaia to pull him out of the room, and at some point, he realizes he's running.

* * *

The shouting starts when they're a few blocks into the city.

"What are they shouting about?" Kaia pants, still running. 

"Clarke," Bellamy answers tersely. "Word travels fast in the city, doesn't it?"

"We have the most advanced technological communication systems in the history of humanity," Kaia says softly, her eyes wide as if she can't quite process everything that's happened since she's saved his life.

"We're going back," he says.

"We can't."

"Why?"

Kaia stops and pulls him into an underground parking garage, eerily empty.

But the shouts and screams persist.

"Our cause wasn't specifically against Gemma," Kaia explains. "We've been around for more than  _two decades,_ Bellamy."

"Clarke isn't Gemma, Kaia! I don't understand what the problem is—"

"Clarke is the queen!" Kaia snaps. "And our purpose is for there to be no kings, no queens!"

"She doesn't have to be—" Bellamy starts.

"Yes, she does!" she interrupts.

Bellamy huffs. "Audrey can take the throne. Can't she?"

"This is in the first set of laws set for the Aurora territory!" Kaia spits. "There is no undoing it. And we're at war with the throne. We always have been."

It's a simple statement, but he understands the true message.

_We are at war with her._

And so Bellamy and Kaia stop talking, their silence filled with the rage that starts to flood the city, the people praising and cursing the rise of the new queen.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so ends part two. who's excited for part three?


	41. Part Three - The Queen's Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy discovers an unexpected solution to a looming problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sigh  
> im tired of hating on echo in this fic and so lets begin the redemption arc of echo kom azgeda

It's late in the afternoon when his train reaches Eligius.

He walks hurriedly, and it's raining in the city when he gets there. Kaia had promised him she'd do everything in her power to stop the Resistance from leading a fully armed assault on the palace, and so Bellamy had left her.

There is a solution.

There has to be.

He takes a self-driving cab to Murphy's apartment, and takes the stairs up to his level, getting slower with each story reached.

Strangely, Raven opens the door, with a smile that rapidly disappears as she reaches out and touches the cut on his face made by Gemma's ring, the bruises and cuts from the guards. "Murphy!" she yells, without turning away from Bellamy. "Bellamy, what happened?'

Murphy appears in the doorframe. "Bellamy? What's up? Where's—where's Clarke?"

They take a long look at his face, his injuries. "No," Murphy says softly. "Is she—?"

"No," Bellamy says softly, looking at the floor. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, no, of course," Raven says, pulling him in. "Here, uh let me get something to clean you up."

After Raven leaves, Murphy guides Bellamy to the sofa and crosses his arms. "Bellamy, what happened?"

He swallows. "Call Octavia, Emori, Zeke, and Jordan. Echo, too, if you can reach her."

"Echo?" Murphy asks in surprise.

"All of you need to hear this," is all Bellamy says,

* * *

Echo and Emori arrive together, Jordan and Shaw show up soon after, and Octavia arrives last, forgetting to give Echo a dirty look when she notices the bruises on Bellamy's face. "What the fuck is going on here?" she asks.

Bellamy swallows, thinking of Kaia, Audrey, the ruins of Ocean Sector and the city beneath. 

He wasn't supposed to tell anyone.

So naturally, he tells them everything.

* * *

There's a tense silence, before Murphy speaks up.

"We have to talk to Russell."

"Are you crazy?" Echo asks, and all the heads turn to her. "It's a whole circle, Murphy. Russell confides in Camille, who just happens to be the prime threat to Clarke. Who is, incidentally, dying. We don't know how much time that medicine bought her."

"Echo's right," Bellamy says in a hollow voice, causing all heads to turn to him this time. "The only people we can trust to protect Clarke is ourselves. No one else."

"But it wasn't her choice to suddenly be responsible for all these people," Jordan says. "Wouldn't Russell understand that?"

"No, Octavia says darkly. "And if Clarke dies on the job, that means war, for some reason or another."

"Not to mention that Clarke's basically already at war with a hidden army," Murphy adds. 

"And there was no solution? None at all?" Emori asks.

Bellamy stares hard at the ceiling. "There was one, but we're not doing it."

This statement causes the whole room to erupt into protests, but then Octavia yells, "SHUT THE HELL UP!" and everyone does.

"Thank you," she continues. "Look, let's not get all mad. We all know Bellamy wouldn't pass up a valid opportunity to save Clarke's life. So let's just hear what the solution is, and then we can talk about it. Can't we?"

His sister looks expectantly into his eyes.

"The Flame," Bellamy says heavily. "Will keep her alive longer. Not forever, but long enough to find a solution."

Echo looks away from the rest of them.

"Echo," Murphy says in a low voice. "You were in cahoots with Skaikru's—"

"Wonkru," Octavia mutters under her breath.

"—resident Flame cult," Murphy finishes, ignoring her. "Weren't you?"

"Madi saw sense," Echo says softly, twisting her fingers together. "Madi knew to leave them."

"But the Flame's still in her head, isn't it?" Shaw asks.

"It is," she confirms. "And she's been wondering where Clarke is, because she wants to take it out."

"But she could've done it herself, couldn't she?" Murphy asks. "Only she knows the password."

"Madi is a child," Echo snaps. "You think she would've wanted to do that alone? Without her mother?"

"I figured you replaced Clarke, after everything that's happened," Raven says flatly.

Bellamy senses the fight brewing. "Echo, come with me," he sighs, getting to his feet. 

Echo's head snaps up. "Bellamy—"

"Please."

She stands, and they walk away.

* * *

Bellamy closes the door of Murphy's guest bedroom then turns to face Echo.

"I don't deserve forgiveness from any of them. Or you," Echo says, her voice steady and brutally honest. "I hurt her so much. Because I was angry. That's all I ever felt after we came back down to Earth."

He says nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Bellamy, you were the first person to make a genuine promise to me and keep it," she sighs. "You were kind and smart and you were good. And all I did was hurt other people for my own."

 _Gina._ The name makes his heart skip a beat.

"And I'd always wanted to be above it all, but you were the first one who made me want to try. You gave me hope, even when you hated me, that I could be anything more than a spy who does as she's told no matter what the consequences are. And I thought it would never happen, because I saw the way you were looking at Clarke the day of Praimfaya."

He stiffens.

"It was like... it was like you'd discovered something beautiful, Bellamy," Echo says, looking wistful. "Your love for her."

Bellamy looks down.

"There's a cliff in Azgeda territory that we used to go to when we were really young, in the summer. Right at the edge of a nice little spring. And it was so high up, and everyone had the same looks on their faces when they were about to jump off the edge and into the water. Excited, scared, awed. And you looked at her with that same expression... hesitating before you jumped."

"And I left her behind."

"And I was there in her place, silently letting you hate me when I was slowly falling in love with you. How pathetic is that?" she scoffs, looking away. Bellamy opens his mouth to say something, but Echo starts talking before he can. And then, after a few years, you and me—everything fell into place, Bellamy. It was everything I'd ever dreamed. And I was  _happy,_ genuinely happy for the first time since my parents—"

She stops talking for a second.

"We came back, and we discovered that Clarke was alive, and I was so scared that you would stop loving me, or that you'd never loved me at all. And even as you kissed me and told me you loved me it was always you and her, falling back into place the way I had wanted to with you. And she betrayed you, and still it was you and her and I was just so angry and alone—"

"Echo," Bellamy says.

"And then you disappeared," she says. "And Clarke was there, and Clarke tried to follow you in, but Miller and I held her back. Miller held her back because he wanted her to be safe, but I held her back because I didn't want her to be with you."

There are tears in her eyes now, a rare sight.

"It was inexcusable, what I'd done to her. I thought I enjoyed it, but I hated it, deep down. Channeling my rage onto one person, the one person I thought was the reason I lost everything. Taking the one person she had left. Madi. Manipulating her into believing that Clarke was bad. Because that's what I was best at. Manipulation. And you came back, and then she came back, and I could tell she was on your mind all the time. It was always her, and back then, I knew I didn't deserve that. I never wanted to be a stand-in, Bellamy. I never wanted to be a square peg shoved into a circle.

"I forgot how to feel anything other than anger and betrayal and resentment when it came to her. Perfect Clarke Griffin who was actually anything but to everyone except you, who managed to see all her faults and still make her the brightest star in your universe. But then you guys started going away a lot, and at first I assumed that you and her finally got together, and I thought—I thought I would feel worse, but I didn't."

He looks up, startled to feel tears in his own eyes.

"I assumed you were happy with her, and that wasn't all that bad to me. I'd been so selfish, wanting you for my own happiness. Wanting my happiness to be brought to me on a silver plate. Wanting my happiness to be built in, eternal.

"And I thought of you being happy, and I  _missed_ you, but for the first time in a long time, I felt relief. Empathy. I think it's one of the first truly good things I've ever done, accepting it."

"Accepting what?" Bellamy asks.

"Accepting that I valued your happiness more than I valued vengeance," she says.

He swallows. "Echo, are you still in love with me?"

She thinks for a second. "I don't—I don't think so." She looks deeply into his eyes. "I love you. Not the way I wanted you to love me anymore. But I love you."

"Maybe I feel the same," Bellamy says in a small voice. "Deep down. Maybe I want to forgive you. Because you're—you were better than you think. And maybe a part of me wants to forgive you."

"You don't ever have to forgive me, but I know I can learn to live with and learn from my mistakes as long as my first real friend can be happy. So wherever you go, whatever plan you have in mind to save Clarke—I'm with you. No matter what. I'm with all of you."

* * *

The door swings open, and they both turn to face it.

The rest of the group is gathered on the other side, all looking at a loss for words.

"You all heard that whole conversation?" Echo asks weakly.

Bellamy pushes past them, and they follow.

"We won't stop at anything to get Clarke back," Bellamy declares. "We're going to make a plan, and Echo's with me. Are you guys with me?"

Everyone looks at Echo, their impressions of her seemingly getting a little better. "We're with you."

"As a matter of fact, I uh, continued research on dedrium," Jordan pipes up. "Raven and I had to break into some code houses—"

"So you hacked into—" Bellamy starts.

"Classified Eligius research files," Raven says. "It's not much, but—"

"There was a request submitted by Caroline Creed to authorize testing the infusion of liquefied dedrium into human test subjects."

"Unauthorized," Raven adds.

"Caroline was the director of environmental affairs, wasn't she?" Murphy asks. "When was the request submitted?"

"Six years ago," Jordan says.

Bellamy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, all of it coming together. "That's when Camille killed Xander."

"Camille killed him?" Emori asks.

Bellamy nods and explains the whole situation about how Xander Creed was supposedly found dead in January, but Camille actually killed him the following February. As far as everyone was concerned, before Camille told Bellamy and Clarke, the only person who knew that Camille killed him was Camille herself.

"So what I'm saying," Bellamy continues, "is that Caroline found out somehow. And she knew there was a dedrium core in the apartment, and Camille might've wanted to know if Xander could've survived."

"Well, that's just pointless," Shaw says. "She wasn't allowed to go through with it, was she?"

"I feel like the Creeds have more power in terms of getting what they want," Echo adds. Octavia stiffens at the sound of her voice. "Who's to say she didn't go through with it anyway?"

"And if she did, there's no documented record of a successful test," Octavia adds, crossing her arms. "So we can't consider that as a stabilizer for Clarke's blood."

Everybody stares at her. "Who said we were—" Jordan starts.

"We were all thinking it," Octavia states. "Right now, there's no solution. So the next logical choice is to buy enough time to find one."

"God, O, not the fucking Flame," Bellamy groans.

"It's the only way," Octavia persists.

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair, which is slowly returning to its untamed curls. "For argument's sake, let's say we do it. But we can't—I mean, how long is it gonna take to reach Madi? Who's gonna be the Commander if we do this?"

"Madi's here in the city, and I don't think we need another Commander, Bellamy," Echo says.

He sighs. "Can we take a vote? Those in favor of putting the Flame in Clarke's head, raise your hands."

Six hands go up—everyone but him.

"It's the only way, Bell," Octavia says again.

* * *

Madi isn't hesitant at all when it comes to it.

"I'll do it," the girl says. "For Clarke."

Bellamy nods, and motions for Madi to sit down. "Take my hand, okay? Don't be afraid."

Madi nods, and then swallows. "I'm afraid of saying it," she says softly.

"Is it in another language?" Bellamy asks.

She nods again. "Latin."

"Tell me what it means in English, then I'll translate, okay?" he says softly. Everyone else looks on in silence.

"'To the stars,'" Madi breathes.

Bellamy closes his eyes, then says clearly,  _"Ad astra."_

Madi starts to scream.

* * *

"Step Two: Clarke," Murphy declares. "We have to go back to her, put the Flame back in her head."

"I think we're ignoring an obvious problem here, though," Jordan mutters.

"And what's that?" Echo asks. In Bellamy's eyes, she still seems disoriented by Jordan, a perfect mix of two of her best friends, friends she'd lost so suddenly.

"Well, Clarke is now the leader of a foreign country. If we intend to bring her back, won't that cause some suspicion if the queen just goes missing?"

"It's even more suspicious if the queen dies on the first day. Hell, we don't even know what condition she's in right now. And there's other things to consider, guys," Octavia says. "I mean, I don't know, there might be some coronation or whatever, to begin with. Whatever happens,  _everyone_ is going to know that Gemma died and Clarke took her place. It's going to have really mixed reactions—they'll either be overjoyed or they're going to wish with their entire heart that Clarke was dead. And some people may even act on this wish."

Bellamy sighs. Of course Octavia would know—she was a queen as well, wasn't she?

"Bellamy," Madi speaks up. "When you give the Flame to her, you need to tell her to hold on to a symbol or a person that she sees when she puts it in her head. That's the only way she'll stay alive."

_Lexa._

He looks down into the small chip in his hands.

_("No, stop, it's Lexa!")_

 He struggles past the tightness in her throat. "Okay. Thank you, Madi. Jordan, I want you to stay with her."

"No," Jordan says immediately. "I want to help get Clarke back."

"And you will," Bellamy assures him truthfully. "I need you to take down surveillance on the Eligius to Aurora train routes. Can you do that?"

He nods. "I can."

Bellamy looks at Madi. "Do not leave his side, okay?"

"I won't," Madi assures him, her tone and inflection so much like Clarke's.

He nods and looks at everyone else, then out the window, where the two suns are starting to dip towards the horizon. "Let's go."

* * *

The Aurora train station is eerily empty when they reach it, and Bellamy reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and finds one of the tablets Kaia had given. Of course, Gemma hadn't even looked through his pockets.

He calls Kaia while everyone else waits in breathless silence.

 _"Oh, my god, Bellamy, is that you?"_ Kaia asks.

"It's me," he confirms. "What's going on?"

 _"It's really fuckin' bad,"_ she murmurs.  _"Austin wants to lead an attack right now, but Camille's trying to hold it off for some reason. But I don't think it's because she wants to keep Clarke safe. She mentioned something about classified Aurora test files, and at that point they told me to leave. The Order of Pramheda's messed up, too. Heda—"_

Everyone's eyes widen, and Bellamy frantically motions for them to stay quiet.

_"—Heda found out that the chip is missing. She doesn't know I took it, though. Why are you calling?"_

"We have a chip, too," Bellamy whispers, glancing around the deserted station. "We're going to sneak into the palace and give it to Clarke."

_"No fucking way. Security's insanely tight around the palace. You'll be shot on sight!"_

"Can you contact Audrey, then?" Bellamy huffs. "Convince her to open a back door for us or something? Wait, where even is she?"

_"The last time I saw her, she was getting me out of one Gemma's cells and telling me to go save you. Then she told me she had to engage the palace's defenses."_

Bellamy's head swims with relief. "Please, try and talk to her."

_"I'm way ahead of you. We've been communicating through an encrypted channel for months. She told me to tell you guys to make your way to the palace, but stop one block before you reach it. She'll be there."_

"Thanks, Kaia," Bellamy breathes, and cuts the connection. He looks at the rest of the gang. "Follow me."

"Who's Kaia?" Shaw asks.

"I'll explain on the way."

* * *

Audrey runs over to him in the darkened street, her face even paler in the blinding streetlamps. "Who are they?"

"They're with me," is all Bellamy says. "Can you get us in?"

Audrey smiles tightly. "You bet your ass I can."

* * *

"Keep your voices down. They have a few guards in the halls, too," Audrey mutters, pulling them through the bright corridors. 

"How is she?" Bellamy breathes.

"Losing her shit," Audrey mutters, and grabs the back of Shaw's jacket before he turns into another hall. "Careful."

They wait for two minutes before they keep going.

There's silence as they climb several stories, going up secluded stairs, their footsteps echoing in the deserted stairwell.

"She's been going through all my sister's old files," Audrey says after a while. She walks towards a silent wing, devoid of guards. "Clarke's taken it upon herself to make everything right here, but she's in no physical condition to do so. She'd just been resting when I last left her—"

Audrey stops talking as she pushes open a door. She motions for everyone to get inside, and then closes it, her whole body tensing.

"Clarke?" Audrey calls softly. She steps ahead of them, walking further into the apartment-like quarters. It's an extremely nice place, a perfect mix of modern and cozy.

She whirls around. "She's not here."

Bellamy's blood goes cold. 

Audrey sighs silently, and goes over to the kitchen. "This is bad."

He tries to control his breathing. "Do you have any idea where she could be?"

"Probably down in sublevel three," Audrey murmurs, though she doesn't sound convinced. "More research files that she hasn't gone over yet..."

"Will we be able to get there soon?" Bellamy asks, approaching hysteria.

"There's an elevator in the back of her quarters that goes all the way down to the sublevels only," she sighs. 

"Then let's go," Raven snaps. It shouldn't worry them, but something seems terribly wrong.

Audrey nods, walking over to another area of the apartment. "There's usually a lock on the elevator, but I know the emergency code."

They approach a back wall where a sliding door is slightly open, and Audrey blanches. "What the fuck?" she whispers.

"It's open," Emori mumbles. 

"Clarke would never leave something like that open," Bellamy mutters. "She would never—"

Echo puts a hand on his shoulder. "Keep it together. We go down to sublevel three and we find her."

"Right," Bellamy murmurs, sliding the door open further and stepping in.

* * *

Sublevel three is huge and full of blank, gray walls. There are metal shelves and crates, and they do find Clarke in the back of the warehouse-like place.

She stares at a smooth metal box, gently running her hands along the edges. Bellamy and the others watch in tense silence, unsure of what to say. 

Clarke then pushes her fingers under the edge of the top face, and pops the box open.

There's a golden glow cast over her face when she opens it, and Clarke pulls out a strange object.

Bellamy's not sure he could ever describe it—the shape, the material. But the color is intense, a color he'd dreamed about for weeks.

Clarke sets it down on the floor, and that's when Audrey snaps, rushing forward. "Clarke, that's a dedrium core! You need to put it back right now."

"Or," another voice adds softly. "You should just give it to me."

Bellamy cranes his neck and stares into the eyes of Xander Creed.

* * *

"Audrey, get behind me," Clarke says softly, pulling a gun out of a holster on her—

On her clothing, black, like the uniform Kaia had brought for her. Exactly like the uniform. Somewhere else in the warehouse, a fan whirs to life, blowing a gentle breeze through the room.

He can't seem to imagine how Clarke is reacting to Creed's presence—the man who had made her life hell in the Speculo, the man who had made Clarke kill visions of Bellamy, and forced her to endure visions of Bellamy killing her.

"You," Clarke breathes, pointing the gun at Xander's head. "The mind behind it all, aren't you?"

"You killed her, didn't you," Xander says, taking a step forward. He hears Clarke squeeze the trigger, demanding that he doesn't come any closer.

"And I'll kill you, too," Clarke snaps. Suddenly, Xander pulls out his own gun and points it at Audrey's head. 

"Go on," he says. "Shoot, but I'll shoot faster. Lower the gun, Clarke."

She looks down at the dedrium core, and Bellamy's mouth has barely closed after screaming at everyone to get down, and there's a blast of gold, taking over Bellamy's entire vision.

He's thrown by the blast, and he sees her silhouette through the light, her arms outstretched as she's thrown back as well, her body bathed in light, what seems to be tendrils of gold and blue and red and black. 

The golden locks of hair are flying, and everything is happening in slow-motion, and the ropes of light move to collectively coil around her arms and fingers, bending and twisting.

To Clarke's will.

Because somehow Bellamy just knows—he knows she's controlling it.

She turns her head a little, and Bellamy sees that her pupils and irises are gone, and there's just a void of glowing gold where her eyes should be, lines of that same color spiraling through her face as if it rushes through the veins beneath her skin.

Clarke lips part just slightly, the gold lines fading slightly but never leaving. 

The air around her is charged with electricity—he can actually see tiny red and blue sparks weaving through her hair.

And then she hits the ground, and Xander's lying on the ground as well, staring at Clarke in wonder.

Bellamy's ears are still ringing from the blast, and when he raises a finger to his ear, it comes away slick with blood.

He starts to crawl towards Clarke, who turns her body to him. 

"Bellamy," she says. Her voice sounds muffled.

He looks up at Xander, who's pulling out a small object and throwing it at them.

A grenade, and it's at that specific moment that Bellamy accepts that he's going to fucking die. 

* * *

But then he doesn't.

His eyes flutter open, and at first he thinks his whole vision is tinged gold, before he realizes there is a strange ceiling, a dome over all of their heads. Clarke's arms are crossed in front of her face, evidently in a gesture to protect herself, but obviously having a different effect.

When the gold ceiling eventually fades, Clarke makes to sit up, but immediately collapses, black blood mixed with small gold streams pouring from her nose. 

And Xander—he's nowhere to be seen.

"Find him," Bellamy says to the others, cradling Clarke's body. Her breathing is slow and steady, as if she's merely fallen asleep. 

Several of them leave to go search the warehouse, and Bellamy stares at the woman lying in his arms.

_We have to get her home now._

There is radioactive energy coursing through her body at this very moment, he realizes.

And though that may have solved one problem, it may have created something beyond anything they've ever known.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT


	42. So Let Them Say We Won't Do Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy learns some startling truths about who Clarke Griffin has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOB AND ELIZA ARE MARRIED

_You're okay._

He murmurs it feverishly to her. Clarke, alive and breathing with him, but she just won't wake up.

"Bellamy!" Murphy shouts. "He's gone."

"He has to be here somewhere!" Emori snaps. 

"We'll find him later," Bellamy yells, picking Clarke up. "Audrey, she  _needs_ to go home. Now."

Audrey clenches her fist, looking concerned. "You know she has to come back, don't you?"

He chooses to ignore that question. "Can you secretly take over her duties? Refuse to let anyone see her?"

"I can, but it won't stand for long. People will get suspicious."

He doesn't respond, merely turns around and starts to head for the elevator. "Guys," he calls. "We have to go."

And within a half hour, they're disappearing into the night, on the way to Eligius.

* * *

She doesn't wake until the next morning.

Bellamy, of course, is at her bedside. And he watches her eyes flutter open, taking in the surroundings of the med bay in the Wonkru camp.

"I'm not dead," she says softly.

"Good morning to you, too," Bellamy replies, touching her hand, gently drumming his fingers in an alarmingly intimate fashion. He doesn't do it for long, though—gold sparks start to weave through her fingers, and Bellamy withdraws his hand. Clarke isn't looking, but she feels the absence of his touch and turns to look at her fingers.

Then she sits bolt upright, scooting so far away from him that she topples over the bed.

"Oh, holy shit," Bellamy mutters getting to his feet and walking over to the other side of the bed. Clarke sits on the floor, staring at her hands in horror.

"Clarke, are you alright?" he asks softly, extending a hand.

"Don't touch me. I'll hurt you," Clarke breathes, flexing her fingers.

"Clarke, just take my hand," he implores.

"What's happening to me?" she asks, her voice laced with pure terror. "Bellamy, what the hell is going on?"

He presses his palms into his eyes. "Clarke, I have no idea."

"It was the dedrium, wasn't it," Clarke breathes, becoming more panicked with each word. "Shit, it did—oh, my god, it did something—"

Her veins start to turn gold, the sparks of the light becoming more violent around her fingers. "Bellamy—!"

"Uh, um, stop!" Bellamy sputters, bending to kneel in front of her. Maybe when she feels an emotion with too much intensity, it gets worse. "Look into my eyes, Clarke."

She does, holds his gaze.

"Breathe in and out, okay?" he says softly. "Slowly. Make your heartbeat slow down."

She takes deep breaths, slowly returning to her natural, stoic state. Meanwhile, Bellamy slowly reaches his hands out and takes Clarke's. When their fingers intertwine, there's a hitch in her breathing.

"Bellamy—"

"It's okay. Keep breathing and you won't hurt me."

Her face turns slightly red. "I still don't think it's a good idea."

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I get nervous when you touch me," she mutters, still looking at him with a scowl on her face. "Okay? And I don't think that'll help."

Bellamy bites his lip to hold back a laugh, but his face is starting to feel a little hot, too. "Like I said, just keep breathing. Close your eyes and pretend it's someone else if that makes you feel any better."

"It's not that," Clarke says. "I mean, I love when you touch me. Fuck, that came out wrong."

Bellamy snorts at that.

"I feel safe when you touch me," she continues. "I always did. The nervousness is kind of a recent development."

"How recent?" he asks with a smirk.

Clarke frowns. "I'm not telling you  _that._ It's probably just anxiety for no reason or whatever."

"Nothing to do with me, of course," Bellamy declares with a grin.

"You're pissing me off, and giving me another reason to—I don't even know. I don't even know what the fuck is going on and I'm trying my absolute best not to lose my shit right now and—"

"Clarke," he says warningly when he feels a strange poking pain in his palm. "Breathe."

Her jaw ticks, her hands going limp in his.

That's when he notices that her skin is ice cold.

"Your skin is cold," he murmurs.

"Yeah, well it feels like I'm being boiled alive right now," Clarke sighs, withdrawing her hands and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm not—I'm not feeling too great, Bellamy."

He leans forward and scoops her up, ignoring her protests that are turning feverish. Her condition is deteriorating alarmingly fast, her skin turning colder. Bellamy calls for Abby and sets her down on the bed.

"She's awake?" Abby Griffin asks, bustling into the room with her hair pulled up high. 

"Mom?" Clarke asks, her eyes shut. "Is that you?"

Bellamy suddenly feels intensely uncomfortable—as far as he's concerned, Clarke hasn't seen her mother in almost a year and a half.

"Hey, baby," Abby says reassuringly, brushing hair away from Clarke's forehead. "You feeling okay?"

Clarke stiffens for a moment, then relaxes. "I'm not sure." In an instant, her eyes snap open. "Mom, don't touch me."

Abby pauses. "Clarke—?"

"She's right, Abby," Bellamy says, looking at Clarke's hands, which are starting to produce sparks again. "Hey, Griffin," he says to Clarke, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Here, take my hands."

Abby watches in interested silence.

Clarke is hesitant, but she slowly reaches her hands out, taking his own. Bellamy feels small and sharp stabbing pains in his palms for a bit, sparks making contact with his skin before her eyes flutter shut, her chest rising and falling as she tries to control her breathing. He brushes his thumbs over her hands, 

"I'm gonna have you check her vitals, then," Abby declares, handing Bellamy a small device. "Press this against her forehead."

He does, still stroking her knuckles.

"How has she been since she woke up?" she asks.

"She's had kind of a reverse fever," Bellamy murmurs. "Says she's feeling hot, but her skin's really cold."

"Oh, my god," Abby says softly, snatching the device from his hands. "Her temperature—it's barely ninety-four degrees. She should be dying from hypothermia."

"She should be dying from the reaction between her blood and the conditions of this planet, too," he replies. "And she's not."

"And what's the connection between these things, detective Blake?" Clarke asks, her eyes slowly opening.

He narrows his eyes. "Dedrium."

"What do you mean, 'dedrium?'" Abby asks, crossing her arms.

Bellamy and Clarke exchange a glance, and then they begin.

* * *

He has to stop Clarke a few times to calm her down, not caring about the pain he feels for the first few seconds he touches her. The memory of Gemma is a bit touchy for both of them, so they both try to filter her out as much as possible. Abby listens to the whole thing, and when they finish, they sit silently as they wait for her reaction.

The silence stretches.

"What's your medical opinion on this?" Bellamy asks, unable to put up with the silence any longer.

"Clarke's body is... adjusting to the intake of a newer element," Abby says, crossing her arms. "Her body temperature is too low for anyone with normal anatomy to survive, but her anatomy's not exactly normal, is it? I'm not sure it's negative yet. I'd still suggest taking her temperature every hour."

"But her body's still reacting to it," Bellamy pushes. "Do you know what the other effects will be?"

Abby looks at him for a long moment before saying, "No, I don't."

_That's okay. I do._

* * *

 "How's she doing?" Murphy asks when Bellamy takes his seat at one of the tables in the mess hall that's been constructed in the camp. It's pretty big, and Bellamy's heart swells whenever he sees how far the settlement has come.

"Seems a bit out of it," he mumbles, poking at the cereal in his bowl.

"That's not it, is it?" Octavia asks, setting her spoon down. 

Bellamy glances around at the other tables before looking at the others. Jordan and Madi stare sleepily at their food, Shaw's eyes are closed, but Echo, Emori, Raven, Murphy, and Octavia all listen alertly.

"There was something wrong with her hands," he murmurs, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his cheek. "Well, not wrong. But not right, either."

"Bellamy, skip the dramatic and vague descriptions and just tell us what's happening," Emori sighs.

"Clarke's body absorbed the energy completely," Bellamy says. "And her hands, there were weird sparks all around them." 

They all sit in silence, unsure of what to say.

"So that means whatever happened to Clarke happened to Xander, too," Echo says suddenly. "Camille mentioned shooting a dedrium core, starting the explosion in the apartment. She believed Xander to be dead, but we saw yesterday that he clearly wasn't."

"Xander could be a nightblood," Raven breathes. 

"That makes no sense," Murphy groans.

"Yes, it does, John," Emori says. "Becca Pramheda was a prominent figure in this place. She's the one who engineered nightblood. What if someone, generations before, made themselves into a nightblood, and it was passed down to Xander? Or what if he made himself one?"

"The dedrium reacted with his body and gave him powers," Jordan says tiredly. "I'd guess the elements altered his genetic structure."

"That's... out there," Raven says.

"It makes sense with the timeline and circumstances of the explosion," Echo states. "All of it does sort of make sense."

"And that could explain why he disappeared," Murphy says. "Invisibility? Teleportation? It all sounds like kid stuff to me, guys."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna go get Clarke some breakfast," Bellamy mutters, picking up the extra bowl of cereal he'd taken earlier. "See you guys later."

* * *

Clarke's sitting up in bed when he gets to her room, and Bellamy can tell she's not pleased.

"What's up?" he asks, giving her the bowl.

"I'm tired of staying in bed, if that makes sense," Clarke mutters. "But I'm not feeling so great."

There's a long silence as Clarke finishes her food, and when the bowl is empty, it shatters for no apparent reason. Bellamy jumps at the noise, and looks at Clarke, who is staring blankly at the wooden pieces.

"Oh, my god, Clarke," he murmurs, getting up. "Here, let me help—"

But as he watches, gold tendrils and sparks emerge from her fingers, wrapping around the pieces. She lifts her hand, flexing her fingers and moving them to move the broken pieces and set them on the table next to her.

There's a tense pause.

Bellamy can't really think of anything to say other than, "You couldn't just pick it up?"

"I can feel it everywhere," she says softly. "And if I think about it doing something, it'll happen."

"You thought of the bowl breaking?" he asks.

"Well, I imagined dropping it for some reason," Clarke murmurs. "I felt the bowl, somehow. It was like I could feel it cracking and breaking. And I felt the pieces, too. I can feel so much."

"You can..." he starts.

"It feels like my blood is... I don't know. It feels like it's alive, sort of. I can feel it moving through my body."

Bellamy leans back. "The dedrium."

"I can feel you, too," Clarke says softly. "Even though I'm not touching you, I can feel you. God, Bellamy, I don't know how this works." 

He looks around the room and grabs a pen, holds it up so Clarke can see it.

"Take it," he commands.

"Bellamy," Clarke murmurs, staring at the pen. "I can't get up."

"I wasn't asking you to."

Gold pinpricks appear in her eyes, bright enough for Bellamy to see. "Bellamy," she says again, almost pleading.

"Can you feel it?" he asks.

Clarke closes her eyes and looks down. "I... a little." She pauses. "At least come a little closer to me."

He does, but not close enough for her to reach out and take it. Clarke's eyes flutter open and she stares at the pen, her gaze one of intense concentration.

He gently lifts a hand, and broken sparks are showered onto the floor from her palm, rising and knitting together, reaching for the pen like another limb. Bellamy feels a slight pain in his hand when the sparks wrap around the pen and pull it away from him, but the pain subsides quickly.

"Clarke," he breathes. "You're doing it."

"I'm not even sure what I'm doing," she says, but she seems a bit more relieved. Bellamy grabs one of the medical devices and holds it against her forehead, checking her vitals. Abby had given him a basic overview of what was good and what was bad, and so far, everything about Clarke's body looked normal except the temperature, which was only at 95 degrees.

"How's it looking?" she asks, grabbing the pen out of midair and setting it down on her lap.

"Temperature's still a little low."

"Hey," Murphy calls from the door. "Can we come in?"

"Sure," Clarke mutters.

Madi races past Murphy and towards Clarke, throwing her arms around her.  _"Klark, ai laik fiya, ai laik krei fiya! Are yu ait?"  (Clarke, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?)_

Clarke gently pushes Madi away, her gaze so full of love and relief that Bellamy turns away, feeling like he's an intruder.

 _"Ai laik ku, Madi,"_ Clarke responds.  _"Em's kai."  (I'm okay. Everything's fine.)_

 _"Ai don jak op Flame au,"_ Madi says, crossing her arms.  _(I took the Flame out.)_

 _"Dei de's good, Madi,"_ Clarke sighs.  _"Ething ste ku."  (That's good, Madi. Everything's okay.)_

 _"Ai don ban au yu,"_ her daughter scowls.  _"Yu shod na sad."  (I left you. You should be upset.)_

 _"Ai laik nou,"_ Clarke assures her, then in English. "I'm not upset."

Then suddenly, as if realizing something, Clarke scoots away from Madi.

"Clarke, are you sure you're okay?" Madi asks. 

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just, try not to touch me," Clarke adds, glancing at everyone else in the room.

"It's about the dedrium, isn't it," Madi mutters, crossing her arms. "Clarke. How is it affecting you?"

Clarke takes the pen and holds it out to Bellamy. "I guess I should show you."

Everyone else steps closer to the bed, Raven and Emori and Echo and Shaw and Jordan and Octavia and Murphy.

Bellamy holds up the pen again, and this time it only takes Clarke about twenty seconds to snatch the pen out of his hands.

Murphy's mouth falls open in surprise.

"I knew it," Jordan mutters. "Clarke, is it okay if I test your DNA?" 

"Yeah," Clarke mutters, toying with the silver bar still measuring her vitals. 

"Wait a minute," Jordan says, stepping closer and prying it from her hands. "Clarke, how do you not have hypothermia right now?"

"Good question," she mutters. Jordan holds it back up to her head, intently watching the numbers. "Jordan, I—ah!"

Clarke lets out a yelp of pain and collapses onto the bed, her body trembling. Bellamy scrambles over to her, grabbing her hands, which are full of sparks. The pain he feels this time is excruciating, and he lets go with a yell of his own. 

"Someone, go get Abby!" he snaps. "Clarke, Clarke..."

Her skin pales, and when Clarke's eyes open again, the gold is a thousand times brighter, and the blue in her eyes seems to be magnified as well.

"Bell," she chokes. "Bell, I—"

There's a strange blue substance curling around her arms now, rope-like clouds coiling around her body. Jordan is still standing there impassively, staring at the bar.

"Jordan, stay back," Emori warns.

"Guys," she says softly. "She's  _healing herself."_

And Jordan's right—as far as Bellamy can see, faint cuts all over her body, left over from her fight with the former queen, are starting to knit together, leaving only a scar that starts to fade as soon as it appears. Color blooms on her face again, her whole body relaxing.

"Her temperature's going up, too," Jordan declares. "All the way..." 

He stops, clearly waiting for something. "And stopping at normal." 

The blue light fades, and Clarke exhales.

"Holy shit," Raven says, walking over to Clarke. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she responds quietly. "I'm actually better than alright."

Clarke slides out of bed, and Bellamy immediately puts his hands on her shoulders, ready to catch her if she falls. "Clarke, hey, take it easy."

"No, Bellamy, I feel fine," she insists, stepping out of his grip. "Everything feels fine."

"This is crazy," Shaw mutters.

"Insane," Murphy breathes, covering his face with his hands. "No. This isn't happening. This doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, it does," Echo says. Clarke looks startled by her presence, but doesn't say anything. "It confirms that Xander may have powers of his own."

"Powers," Clarke echoes weakly.

"Probably varying with each person," Echo continues. "And Clarke, she lived. Because she was a nightblood. Xander had to be one, too. And don't you remember the shield she made when Xander threw the grenade?"

There are scattered murmurs of assent. 

"And the pen," Echo states. 

"So what exactly would her power be?" Emori asks. "Manipulation of that—whatever it was? Or healing herself?"

"Could be both," Madi says. "It could be anything."

"I'm right here," Clarke sighs. "Guys."

"We can't deny it, Clarke," Jordan says. He picks up a cotton swab and unceremoniously sticks it into Clarke's mouth, who makes an angry choking noise. Jordan pulls away. "Thanks. I gotta go."

With that, he leaves.

"Hey, Clarke," Murphy says. "Catch."

He picks up a pen and hurls it point first at Clarke, who immediately raises her hands. A glowing gold circle bursts to life in front of her, and the pen bounces of the surface. When Bellamy bends to pick it up, he sees that the tip is melted.

"You've made your point," Clarke says to Murphy with a frown.

He smiles weakly. "Guess we have."

* * *

They sit by the main fire at night after a day of catching up with everyone at the Wonkru camp, Clarke's head tilted up towards the stars.

"You know what this means, right?" she asks after a while.

"What what means?" Bellamy asks.

"Me being okay."

He shakes his head. "No, I don't know."

"It means I can go back," Clarke sighs.

Bellamy turns his head to her. "What?"

She tugs on the hem of the old henley she's wearing. "Bellamy, I am their leader. I can't just abandon them."

"They aren't your responsibility!" Bellamy exclaims. 

"Bellamy," she says soothingly, grabbing his hands. He feels a stabbing pain and lets go of her, and Clarke recoils, looking scared and upset. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says, and to prove his point, he takes her hands within his own.

"They are my responsibility, now, Bellamy. I have to at least fix what the generations of rulers before me broke."

"Why?" he asks, hating how childish he sounds.

She hangs her head.

"I know you feel like you have a responsibility to help whoever you see that is suffering," he says. "But for once, you can walk away. You can come home, and you can stay at home."

"Home," she scoffs.

 _"Me,"_ he says with emphasis. "You can stay with me. You don't have to leave, Clarke. You don't have to fight wars you never deserved to fight."

It's late—the only sound is the crackling of the fire and the sound of Clarke's breathing. Everyone has long since retired to their cabins.

"You know I can't," she finally breathes.

"It's not safe there," he says trying a different approach. "There  _are_ some people out there who would've preferred your predecessor to you. There  _will_ be attempts on your life. And the Resistance is gonna be onto you, too."

She furrows her brow. "But—"

"They're against the idea of the throne itself," Bellamy implores. "And they won't care who sits on it. It's already dangerous. It's naturally best to attack during a transition of power, and we're lucky that Camille Creed doesn't want to attack for some reason, and that Kaia is trying her best to direct their efforts elsewhere. And you're the official Commander of the Order of Pramheda, whatever that is."

"Not anymore," Clarke urges. "I had Audrey give the symbol back to Kaia."

"One small responsibility you don't have," Bellamy concedes. "But that doesn't make your situation much better."

She stands up, turning away from him. "I just have to fix this."

"That's the thing, though," Bellamy pleads, also standing up. "You don't  _have_ to."

"I have a lot of things to make up for," she says softly. "And I'm getting there, I know I am. And I want to be good. Not—a hero, but good. This is me wanting to do good."

"And that's why I respect you, Clarke," he sighs, stepping forward. "But you want to be good even at your own expense?"

"It's a small price to pay."

"Not for me," Bellamy breathes, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a long kiss to her temple. She doesn't react, and her body relaxes against his. Not a trace of gold to be seen except the firelight casting a glow across her hair. When she turns, her eyes blue, and only blue, she looks wrecked.

"I can handle myself, you know that," she says. "Despite events that have hinted to the contrary."

Bellamy laughs a little at that, touching his forehead to hers. "I know. I know, but I'll always be afraid of losing you."

"But why?" she asks.

"Shit, Clarke, are you really going to make me say it? I—I care about you. Deeply."

She pulls away. "Then you'll understand why I should go back. For them. For these people who deserve so much better. You know I can't walk away knowing that I could've done something about it."

There's a short silence.

"I let you go, and it's a win-win for you, isn't it?" he sighs. "Got me to admit my feelings, and you'll get to do what you feel is right." He doesn't mean for his voice to sound that bitter, but it clearly is.

"I promise I'll see you again," Clarke says, stepping closer. "Don't you know I won't ever break any promises I make to you?"

"I know," he breathes, suddenly lightheaded at their proximity.

"So let me go," she says.

"Okay," Bellamy murmurs. "Okay."

"Got any more feelings to admit?" Clarke asks with a smile.

"Just the one."

And he tilts his head down and kisses her, capturing her bottom lip between his own. His arms are secure around her waist, and Clarke's hand comes up to gently brush his face, kissing him back just as softly. It's not at all what he expected, not at all what he'd dreamed. Where there should be an urgent sort of rage in their first kiss, a battle for dominance, there is only love and reassurance, and that makes it a million times better. His breath hitches when Clarke tilts her head to trap his own lip between her own, kissing him the way he first kissed her. His way to say  _I love you,_ and her way to say it back.

He feels a small pinch at the back of his neck where Clarke's other hand is, and she steps away. "Sorry."

Bellamy shakes his head. "It's okay."

Clarke looks down at the ground, a blush evident on her features even in the dark.

"I really should've done that earlier," he says, tilting his head.

"I know," she says, and her tone turns sad. "Back when I couldn't hurt you with this."

As if to prove her point, sparks dance around her fingers again. The bubble of joy and nerves that had been growing in his stomach deflates a little as the mood darkens.

"You still don't want me to leave," Clarke adds after a while.

"Yeah," he admits. "Especially after..."

"Mhm," she says, absentmindedly raising a finger to her lips.

"Clarke?" he asks. "Are you going to come back?"

She looks up, her eyes full of hesitation.

"When you've done all that you can, you will find someone else to take your place and you're going to come back," Bellamy says. "Won't you?"

Clarke looks immensely uncomfortable. "I don't know the magnitude of what needs to be done, Bellamy. And because of that I can't promise that I'll come back."

"You promised you'd see me again," he says.

"And I will," Clarke assures him. "I just—"

"Don't know for how long or when," Bellamy says, and now anger has started to build up inside him, a wave of old familiar anger, anger that he'd felt remembering Clarke walk away from him after Mount Weather. And here she is, walking away. And not because she can't deal with her choices, but because she has given up the freedom of making her own in exchange for the responsibility of people she'd never known.

"So you're surrendering to them," he says.

"They're my people now, whether we like it or not," she implores, and Bellamy looks into her eyes, trying to understand how she feels.

"You don't want this," he realizes. "Clarke, you know you don't. You want to stay."

"You said I could still walk away," she says, tears welling in her eyes. "But we both know it's too late for that."

 __She wants to stay, but it is far from comfort to him. So he turns and walks towards the cabin he and Clarke are sharing, disappearing into the darkness so Clarke doesn't have to see his heart start to break again.

* * *

She comes back to their cabin after a while, and he keeps his eyes firmly shut, trying to convince her that she's asleep. He can hear clothes rustling as she changes, and can feel the bed dip behind him when she settles into it.

"Bellamy," she tries. 

He doesn't answer her.

Bellamy can feel her arm hovering over his side, and he thinks she's going to wrap it around his body, but he's only greeted by a hollow, cold feeling, expecting warmth that doesn't come. So he reaches behind him and holds her arm, moving it and placing it around his body. Clarke relaxes at this, securing her arms around him and resting a hand over his heart, and throwing a leg over his waist under the covers.

He should be happy that he gets this night of peace with her, some more time before she leaves. Something he'd wished for after Mount Weather, but never got. But somehow, having her is a thousand times worse. The kiss will be forgotten, soon becoming no more real than a daydream he'd had a long time ago.

Bellamy lifts a hand to place it over hers, and he waits for her to fall asleep, fall asleep believing that everything is okay between them, when it's really not okay.

 _It's okay,_ he'd said to her last night, holding her body to his.

_It's not._

_(it's okay)_

A tear escapes him, trickling down his face like a waterfall.

_It's not okay._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, after 42 chapters, there's a kiss!!! sorry it leads into a fight tho.   
> Comments and kudos are welcome!!!!


	43. Lay Out The Rules That We Can't Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Kaia try to formulate a plan to keep Clarke safe from the true intentions of the Resistance.

Clarke leaves in the morning. They don't kiss, they don't even hug. They nod curtly at each other, urge each to maintain their own safety. A warrior's goodbye.

Bellamy figures that the least he could do is try to keep Clarke safe, so he comes to a decision.

"I'm gonna be leaving, too," he says to the gang at lunch. 

"Where are you going to go?" Raven asks. "After her?"

"I need to set things straight with the Resistance," Bellamy murmurs, glancing around. "Kaia can't do it alone."

Octavia buries her face in her hands. "Of  _course._ They would've attacked."

"At least Clarke's stronger now," Emori assures them. "If they  _do_ attack, I think she'll be able to hold her own until we can help her."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Bellamy says, rubbing a hand over his now cleanly shaven face. "Weirdly, Camille doesn't want to do anything, but I don't think that's because of Clarke."

"Yeah, well, from what I've heard, she  _is_ hiding something," Shaw sighs. "And there's the Order of Pramheda to worry about, too."

Bellamy winces at that. "Yeah."

Jordan comes to their table and sits down, staring at the wooden surface with a mortified expression. Bellamy glances at everyone, silently ordering to keep quiet before asking, "Jordan? You okay?"

His head snaps up. "I need Xander's DNA."

Bellamy blinks. "We don't have it. Why do you need it?"

"Clarke's DNA is weirder than weird, to say the least," Jordan sighs. "Even with how I hypothesized the element to affect her anatomy, it's just... it's not right. And I  _did_ monitor her vitals yesterday. After she healed herself, she had unnaturally steady patterns."

"Here's an idea," Murphy says, looking nervous for the first time in all the time Bellamy has known him. "What if... what if it affected Clarke differently than it affected Xander?"

"What do you mean?" Jordan asks.

"Instead of the energy just mutating Clarke's genetic structure like it did for Xander," Murphy replies, leaning forward. "What if Clarke's controlling the energy herself?"

Everyone raises their eyebrows, but Murphy isn't deterred. "Look. I'm gonna take a wild,  _wild_ guess and say both Clarke and Xander... absorbed the energy."

"Okay..." Raven says.

"For Xander, that process only alters his genetic structure. It could be because of how close Xander could have been standing to the dedrium core in his apartment. But Clarke, she was  _right_ there. That gold stuff, maybe even the blue... it could be the element manifesting itself in her."

Bellamy nods. and leans forward on his elbows. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"And if this is about someone's proximity to an energy core at the time of a blast—" Murphy says.

"Camille," Raven gasps. "Jonathan Alexander Murphy, you total genius," she breathes, leaning forward and kissing Murphy hard. Judging by the way his eyes widen before closing and kissing Raven back just as passionately, this is certainly the first time Raven had kissed him.

"I try," Murphy mutters when they finally pull away, having attracted the looks of half of the mess hall.

Everyone hastily goes back to eating.

* * *

 

"Welcome back," Kaia says, her mouth set in a tight smile. Bellamy looks up at the glass dome holding back the ocean. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking at her face.

"It's like a perpetual lockdown over here," Kaia sighs. "They're not letting me into Command meetings anymore. Not that I entirely mind that, because those are either terrifying or terrifyingly boring. But it's like everyone is being cut off from the system." She glances at the Academy, her lips pursing. "It's bad around here. They don't know Clarke. A lot of these people were raised on the belief that anyone who wore the crown was inherently bad, even if they were an outsider. And judging from my last briefing, I know Camille won't want to lead an assault right now, but she  _will_ do it. Waiting for the right time, I guess."

He sighs. "I think I may know why Camille wants to hold it off, but I can't be sure."

Kaia arches an eyebrow. "Are you gonna tell me, or are you going to say something like, 'oh, young grasshopper, you're too young'?" she asks, lowering her voice in a crude imitation of Bellamy's voice.

"I don't sound like that," Bellamy mutters.  _"And,_ you  _are_ young."

"Oh, please," Kaia sighs. "You can't be much older than me. How old are you?"

He thinks for a second, trying to remember. "Twenty-seven, twenty-eight?"

"And I'm forty-two," Kaia scoffs. "You do not look that old, hence my prior comments."

"Well, I don't know the exact age," Bellamy says.

"What kind of person doesn't know?"

"The kind of person who doesn't have time to measure something as trivial as this," Bellamy sighs. "Point is, you're—what, eighteen? Nineteen? Biologically, I'm a decade older than you."

She wrinkles her nose. "Biologically?"

Bellamy inwardly chides himself for revealing such a detail, but after a moment of careful deliberation, he conceded. 

"Chronologically," he begins to admit. "I'm much older."

Kaia puts her hands on her hips. "How old?"

He does some quick math in his head. "A hundred and fifty, give or take a few years."

Oddly, Kaia doesn't look too fazed. "Cryogenic preservation. Why?"

"Our planet was destroyed," he says softly. "Eligius spacecraft was able to direct us here while a person who stayed awake was able to find a planet to sustain us."

"What planet was it?" she asks, but Bellamy has a feeling she already knows.

"Earth," he says.

* * *

"So how are we going to make sure these people don't kill Clarke?" Bellamy asks.

"The last few briefings that I was at, it was like the entire Command unit had changed. They've met you and Clarke, but one of the main reasons they're worrying about her is because she may pose a threat to them in terms of the aftermath of whatever great revolution they want to put into effect."

His heart sinks. "So it's the age-old battle for power?"

"I get the feeling that Camille wants to be the leader of the new world," Kaia groans. "And she's a pretty influential figure. I don't know how we're going to at least get the people to understand what's really going on here."

"So we teach them," Bellamy asks. "The kids, the Academy. They learn this ideology from their teachers, don't they?"

Kaia knits her brows together. "Yeah." She looks up. "Mallory. She was a teacher, but we were informed that Mallory left the cause yesterday.  _Mallory_ covered for me when I was taking the chip from Heda's office."

"You think the Order of Pramheda orchestrated Mallory suddenly leaving?"

"It's likely," Kaia sighs, running a hand through her hair. "That's suspicious. But, it does leave a position open for you."

He realizes what she's saying and turns his whole body to face her. "You want  _me_ to teach classes at the Academy?"

Kaia twists her fingers together. "You could help these people face facts. And when the time comes, they can hopefully make a logical choice on whose side to take."

It doesn't sound ideal at all, but as of now, it's the most Bellamy can do as of now.

"Will they even let me fill the position?"

"They already did," Kaia says. "I pulled a few strings, got you the position."

He widens his eyes. "How? I only just got here."

Kaia crosses her arms. "Clarke Griffin is the queen of Aurora. People are naturally going to know if she leaves and reenters the nation unless Clarke takes direct measures from her own end to keep it secret, which, I doubt she did, with everything that's been going on. By the way, you're gonna explain how the fuck she's alive. Anyways, since I know Clarke's coming back, especially with the condition she's coming back to, it was inevitable you'd come back, too. So, I ensured the position."

"You're one hell of a mastermind," Bellamy says after a long moment.

* * *

**T H E  F O L L O W I N G  M O R N I N G**

He shuts the door loudly behind him, reveling in the hush that falls over the students. Bellamy doesn't bother looking at the students until he reaches the desk, and he chooses to sit on it rather than in the seat behind it.

"Senior class of the Academy of Ocean Sector," he says, looking into everyone's faces individually. For an entire grade, there aren't a lot of people—about thirty people in the large classroom at the most. Everyone eyes him with varying types of interest, and Bellamy feels a swell of deja vu, staring into the faces of the delinquents sent to Earth.

"That's us," a girl says dryly. 

He nods to himself, and glances back at the whiteboard on the wall. A boy with short blonde hair raises his hand, and Bellamy looks at him.

"Where's Ms. Mallory?" he asks.

"Mallory is no longer teaching here. I am," Bellamy answers. "I'm Bellamy, Bellamy Blake. And am I right in assuming this is the Operations division of the Academy?"

Everyone murmurs their assent.

"And how has this been taught to you?" he presses.

"Mostly theory," another girl adds. "A lot of the time we don't actually practice anything until the final exams."

"Great system, yeah?" the blonde boy says, and everyone snickers.

"Yeah, well, that's not going to be the system anymore," Bellamy says, getting up. "Things are going to be different around here from now on."

And with that, all of the kids smile, as if they've been waiting for this their whole lives.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys I am so, SO sorry that this chapter is so short, and I won't be updating for a very long time since I'll be on vacation for more than a month. Sooooo, take this as an opportunity to reread this so you can be ready for when I start to update again. Thanks, love you all!
> 
> check out 'The Singularity and The Line' if you want to read more by me


	44. DISCONTINUED

it's been a long journey, but i'm sorry to say i have absolutely no motivation to finish this piece whatsoever. in the months that it's taken me to come this far in this fic, i feel like i've really feel like i've grown as a writer, but the way i started this off is really holding me back.

for those of you who really are wondering how i planned to finish the story, here's the tea;

-turns out the Resistance is a bunch of assholes, except Kaia. We love her.  
-Xander Creed is good! Xander Creed had orchestrated the Speculo experience to give Bellamy and Clarke a valid reason to track him down. Xander and his other sister Caroline have been trying to do something about Camille's tyrannical spiral towards power.   
-Gemma was wild, but we been knew. Xander was in love with her, but he couldn't agree with her ways. Which, coincidentally aligned with the story of Gabriel Santiago and Josephine Lightbourne, which is wild.  
-badass queen Clarke and her badass powers!  
-Bellamy taught the operations class and orchestrated a small rebellion from the Academy, enabling all of the divisions of the school to unite and cause the Siege of Ocean Sector. tl;dr: them kids be wildin' and they shut down the government, thanks to Bellamy's inspirational teaching. It's like the 100 all over again!!!  
-clarke defeats camille!!  
-murphy was right; clarke's genetic structure had been altered by the dedrium like camille and xander, but she was also able to become a physical manifestation of that energy. camille choked, sis.  
-after that, there's some denial and bellarke feelings. seeing as clarke is still the queen and bellamy is still actively involved in the newer society that rose from the ashes of the corrupt Resistance, the two of them have to team up as ambassadors and visit nations around the new planet to repair the damage done by the Aurora territory. bc Camille and Gemma were psychopaths.  
-camille had been the secret heda in the order of pramheda, but kaia didn't know that. either way, one of the last of camille's supporters and a member of the inner circle of the order of pramheda orchestrated a plane crash (WHILE THEY'RE OVER A SEA!!!), a plane bellamy and clarke happened to be on. only the two of them, because technology and the author likes forcing them together.  
-plane is in the water!!!!!!  
-aside from manipulating the energy, clarke's primary abilities are healing and immunity, so she's not in any immediate danger of drowning. bellamy, being the person he is, tells clarke to swim to the surface without him. clarke naturally says no. but then the plane fills with water entirely, and bellamy passes out. bellamy is drowning. oh god. shit. but clarke's awesome, so clarke is somehow able to extend some of her immunity to him, even though it weakens her greatly. she barely manages to manipulate dedrium to get both her and bellamy to the shore, because luckily they're not too far from it.  
-clarke peforms cpr on him. seriously, it's like i predicted all of s6 in my outline.  
-love!!! making it!!!!!! not there on the beach tho bc that's weird. they're able to find a safe house that clarke learned about when she first became a queen. but yeah!!!!! sorry i robbed you of that!!!  
-miss raven reyes and john murphy become badass assassins and track down the person who caused the crash. yay!!  
-clarke stops acting like an oblivious fool and she gives up the position of queen to audrey. bellamy also recognizes that he's tired of this shit and he leaves the new ocean sector society. Clarke and Bellamy go back to russell's territory and they live happily ever after. because happy endings.

i am sorry about this, but this isn't the end of all my work. i'm always writing about these two because i'll literally never get over them. and sorry if that didn't tie up any loose ends you still had questions about. like i said, no motivation whatsoever.

thanks to everyone who made it this far. I love you all.  
t


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